


Smile

by Kayleen756894



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Abusive Parents, Bullying, Character Development, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Dubious Morality, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Manipulation, Mild Sexual Content, Pre-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Rape Aftermath, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unreliable Narrator, but debatably soft for Mikan in this, junko's still a horrible person, not because of Junko tho, really depends how you look at it, she'd never hurt Mikan in this fic, the soft Junko x Mikan you've maybe been looking for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21883921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayleen756894/pseuds/Kayleen756894
Summary: “How... how often do you think you’ll need me?”Junko leaned forward, her lips brushing against Mikan’s ear.“Often.”**Edit: added a new chapter but the first chapter can be read as a stand-alone!**Edit 2: Chapter 3 bumps the rating up to M.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko & Ikusaba Mukuro, Enoshima Junko/Tsumiki Mikan, Ikusaba Mukuro & Tsumiki Mikan
Comments: 29
Kudos: 199





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quickly learned from writing this that you don't write Junko Enoshima. She writes herself.
> 
> Originally this was going to be much longer and VERY abusive. But about halfway through writing it that changed and now it's kinda... soft? I think we can all agree that Junko x Mikan is a toxic ship BUT I think it's very interesting to explore, and I wanted to try exploring it in a softer way while still having Junko be, y'know, Junko. That was tricky but I'm happy with the end result. I wanted some nicer Junko x Mikan in the world so here it is.
> 
> Warnings for talk of suicide, various mentions of bullying and Junko's vulgar mouth.

Mikan couldn’t remember a time when her life was good but maybe that’s because it never was. She grew up lonely and isolated, never seeing much of her family or other people. She’d been clumsy since she was young and ended up with her fair share of scrapes. Her parents never tended to her injuries so she had to learn to take care of herself, and she cleaned and bandaged her wounds so often she quickly became skilled at the practice.

She’d been bullied from a young age for her looks, her clumsiness, pretty much everything. Kids pushed her, cut her hair, called her a slut once she reached high school. Teachers never helped her and sometimes actually were her bullies. At first Mikan didn’t understand why they were treating her that way, but since everyone was doing it, it must be her with the problem, right? If all of them were calling her a disgusting pig then that must be what she was.

She was nothing but a dumb, ugly whore. They were all better than her and deserved to be treated that way.

Her nursing capabilities aided this mindset. One thing that Mikan wholeheartedly loved was helping people; tending the injured made her feel useful. She’d always help others before herself even if that meant she’d run out of supplies before she got a turn.

That was okay. She didn’t matter. They did.

So she let them bully her. She wasn’t strong enough to stand up for herself and it wasn’t like anyone was going to help her. She’d rather be abused than ignored. She’d rather her existence be acknowledged than be forgotten in the dust.

Today was another such day in the life of Mikan Tsumiki. Some girls cornered her in an empty classroom—seeming nice at first, which confused her, but they quickly grew nasty. The insults they threw weren’t anything new but they hurt all the same. Even if they were right, even if she was the ugliest girl at the school, she wished they didn’t have to remind her every day.

Then one of them held her down while another brandished a pair of scissors, snipping off chunks of Mikan’s long purple hair, leaving it choppier than before. Mikan tried to thrash them off but their harsh laughter paralyzed her. The sane part of her didn’t like the abuse but the twisted part craved the attention. She knew this would end sooner if she stayed quiet and still.

“Huh, that’s funny,” spoke a new voice. “None of you bitches look like the Ultimate Hairdresser to me.”

Mikan had heard that voice before but her mind was too hazy to place it. What did register, though, was that the snipping of the scissors finally stopped and her bullies’ attention seemed to be elsewhere.

“This doesn’t concern you, skank,” said the girl who’d been cutting her hair. Unlike before, her voice shook. Was she afraid of the person who happened by?

“Skank? How original. Hit up Urban Dictionary for some new insults, Slutbag Scissorhands. You’re boring me already.”

“You bitch—”

“Don’t!” said the bully who’d been holding her down. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just go.”

The first girl released an annoyed groan, then the scissors toppled to the ground followed by three pairs of hurried footsteps and finally the slamming of a door.

Mikan took a minute to relax and focus on her breathing. In, and out. In, and out. Slowly, her heart began to settle. It’d actually been awhile since a bully cut her hair. Now she was gonna have to cut off more to make it match. Kind of. Mikan was great with medicine and dressing wounds, but hair styling? Not her thing.

Believing she was alone, Mikan sat up.

Only to be face to face with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

Gasping, Mikan crept back, arms and legs flailing.

“Oooo, thanks for the panty shot!” The girl laughed at her, but it lacked the malice Mikan normally heard when people laughed at her. “Love the lace, girl. Planning to get laid today? No?” When Mikan didn’t respond, the girl toyed with the ends of her red miniskirt. “Want a peek at mine? Only fairzees.”

Mikan felt mortified and hid her burning face in her hands. “N-no, I’m sorry, p-please forgive me!”

“Aww, getting me all exciting for nothing...”

Mikan peeked through her fingers and now that she could get a good look at her, it only took one second to recognize Junko Enoshima, the Ultimate Fashionista. Everyone knew who she was, even a nobody like Mikan. Junko was in the grade younger than her and hadn’t been at their school very long, but she quickly ranked up on the popularity charts. The poofy blonde pigtails, giant boobs, short skirt and wickedly high heels definitely helped, but it was her wit and ability to not let anything or anyone faze her that kept people talking about her, whether positively or negatively.

“You’re... Junko Enoshima, right?” Mikan asked even though she already knew. Honestly, Mikan never thought she would have an opportunity to talk to this girl.

“Ding ding ding!” Junko pumped her fist in the air. “The one and only. You’re my upperclassman, right?”

Mikan’s stomach did a little flip. This gorgeous girl recognized her?

“Ah, y-yes, I—”

“Just kidding, I already know. You’re the Ultimate Nurse. Mikan, right? Can I call you that?”

Now Mikan’s heart was pounding. Junko knew her name? Someone wanted to call her by her name rather than something derogatory?

“Y-yes! Then, c-can I call you Junko?”

“Sure.” Junko shrugged and gave a toothy grin. “Unless there was something else you wanted to call me. I’ll accept Queen, Genius and Gorgeous.” Junko winked. “Sexy if you’re feeling spicy.”

Mikan giggled, Junko’s openness relaxing her a bit. “They all suit you.”

“Duh, but you know what doesn’t suit you?” Junko ran a manicured hand through her strawberry blonde tresses. “That hair. That ho did a number on you.”

Mikan flinched, twisting her split ends with her fingers. “T-that’s okay. It’s not the first time. I-I’ll fix it later.”

“Why bother when I’m here right now? Up and at ‘em, Sugartits; sit at this desk here.”

That comment about her boobs flustered her, but somehow the way Junko said it didn’t make it seem like an insult. It sounded like something a good friend would say once insults became forms of affection. But this was the first time they ever shared words so that couldn’t possibly be true. Junko was one of the only people, definitely the only one in recent memory, to ever be nice to her, so Mikan was probably just reading too much into it.

Mikan sat at the desk in question, nervously playing with her hands in her lap. Without a word, Junko picked up the fallen scissors and got to work on fixing Mikan’s hair. Immediately Mikan’s hands shook, her face going bright red.

No one... no one had willingly touched her before with kind intentions. No one had done something so selfless for her before. Junko’s hands were gentle in her hair and Mikan had to stop herself from purring like a pleased cat. It was hard enough just to sit still.

Junko finished too quickly for Mikan’s liking and pulled out a pocket mirror for Mikan to see. Mikan’s hair was shorter than it had been in a long time, but also cleaner than she’d ever seen it.

She almost looked... pretty.

“This... wasn’t your first time,” Mikan said, running a hand through her locks. Her hair felt softer than before too even though that made no sense. Maybe it was just because Junko touched it.

“With what?” Junko raised an eyebrow and hopped on the desk Mikan sat at, crossing one long leg over the other. “Cutting hair or fucking?”

“W-what?” Mikan’s squeaks were a few pitches higher than normal. “I didn’t...”

“There’s no way you made an innuendo like that on accident.” Junko laughed at her again and Mikan curled in on herself, embarrassed, but once again she didn’t sense any malice from her. “Well, the answer is no to both. Is your answer yes to both? It’s hard to tell. You act innocent, but those panties tell a different story.”

Mikan tried to become one with her chair, thighs clenching together. “I’ve never—”

“—Had someone this jaw-droppingly gorgeous cut your hair before? Of course you haven’t!” Suddenly, Junko’s tone changed. Everything about her seemed to change, from the look in her eyes to her body language. “You normally do it yourself, right? You’re not very good at it.”

Junko’s voice this time was low, almost monotone, and it made Mikan shiver. She was so bewildered at the sound of her voice it took another moment to register what was said.

Then Mikan sighed. “I know.”

Junko’s perky persona returned like it never left. “That’s why you should come to me next time! I mean, I’m not the Ultimate Hairdresser either, but I’m better at it than Scissorhands from earlier and definitely better than you.”

Junko laughed wildly like what she said was the funniest thing in the world, and Mikan would have laughed too if she wasn’t so confused.

“Why... why would you offer me something so kind?” Mikan asked quietly, looking down. “Most people avoid me or pick on me because I’m so disgusting.”

“Better to be disgusting than boring.” The sureness in Junko’s tone, the factuality, made Mikan meet her piercing cobalt gaze again. “Own that shit, girl. Most people here bore me, but _you_ cured my boredom for a bit, Miss Ultimate Nurse.”

Junko ran her fingers through Mikan’s hair again, crimson claws scratching at her scalp, the tingles that sparked along her head so strong she swore they sunk right into her brain.

The door to the classroom creaked open and Mikan did her best to look without separating from the warmth at her head. No one at the door would matter more than Junko did right now, but Mikan supposed she should be alert in case her bullies decided to return.

A black haired girl stood at the door, looking unimpressed but not unkind. Mikan had never talked to her before, but she was pretty sure that was—

“Leave it to my swamp-abortion sister to ruin my mood,” Junko said, sighing. Mikan immediately caught how differently Junko spoke to this girl compared to her.

“Whispers in the halls led me here,” the girl—Mukuro, that was her name—said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“The only thing not okay is my eyes after being forced to see your uglyass face,” Junko said with a sneer. Mukuro blushed and took a step back, but didn’t defend herself.

Mikan knew a bully when she saw one. Junko clearly bullied her sister.

But Junko didn’t bully her. Junko was kind to her. Why was that?

Junko hopped off the desk, her warm hand leaving her hair to Mikan’s dismay, and Mikan wished she knew how to ask the thousands of questions speeding through her mind. She already missed Junko’s touch and couldn’t believe how much she craved for it again.

Junko’s attention returned to Mikan and so did her cheerful tone. “I am starting to get bored again so I’m gonna yeet, but next time you have some fun way to pass the time, come find me! Bye Mikan!”

She was out the door with Mukuro before Mikan could even say bye back. Not like she would have been able to anyway. Not with her heart pounding a mile a minute.

Mikan pulled out her phone so she could admire her new hair that Junko cut for her but found herself admiring the smile Junko put on her face instead.

* * *

Unfortunately, that occurrence in the classroom seemed like a fluke and soon became a fleeting memory. But, apparently, only to Mikan. Once students learned that she and Junko spent that time together, Mikan’s bullying got worse. No haircuts, though—as if people didn’t dare ruin something furnished by Junko’s hand—just beatings and verbal abuse. Thus, giving her no good excuse to seek out Junko. She wanted to talk to Junko again and every time she was bullied a part of her hoped Junko would save her again like some hero in a comic book, but she never came.

Somehow, that made Mikan feel more alone than ever before.

Days after days, weeks after weeks, led her to the edge of the school’s roof, her shoes placed neatly beside her. It would be so easy to jump off and end it all. With her luck she’d probably stumble and flip over the railing. She’d be a burden even in death, she knew, for the people who would see her fall and the poor person destined to remove her corpse.

But everyone seemed so bothered by her presence that killing herself would be doing them a bigger favour than staying alive. Mikan wasn’t even sure her current state could be labelled as alive. She held no desires, no love, no dreams. She didn’t look forward to anything.

Everything in her life hurt her, so why should she keep living? Dying sounded better, and she had made her peace with it long ago.

“So, like, I know this breeze is totally the shit, but I guarantee it feels better up here than it would down there.”

Maybe Mikan was wrong. Maybe there was one thing in her life that didn’t hurt her. Maybe one thing she looked forward to.

Mikan turned to see Junko at the door, hands on her hips and pigtails swaying gently from the wind, an unreadable expression on her face. Her eyes didn’t look as blue as the first time they spoke.

“I’m thankful you helped me out that one time,” Mikan said, hoping her words came across stronger and truer than her tone. “No one’s ever stood up for me like that. But I’ll be helping everyone more if I do this.”

“Who cares about them?” Junko scoffed, waving her hands. “Fuck ‘em. Not literally. Like, no one other than me is fuckable at this school. But you don’t owe anyone shit.”

Mikan tensed, silent, and turned back to face the drop that would keep her that way. She heard Junko sigh.

“If you’re so good at looking after others, why can’t you look after yourself?”

Her response was fast and instinctive. “Because I don’t matter. And they do.”

Junko’s groan was so dramatic that Mikan couldn’t gauge its authenticity. “I can’t hear this anymore; I feel like I’m gonna have a stroke. Get away from the railing and come over here. I need to show you something.”

Mikan didn’t budge. It wasn’t until she heard a gentle “please,” something so foreign about it coming from Junko, that she just had to turn around.

Junko held out her hand, long red nails gleaming in the sunlight, offering it to Mikan. It looked soft and warm, an open-ended question, compared to the finality of the cold, metal railing in her grasp.

Then Junko flipped over her arm revealing a long gash near the elbow that was still bleeding. Before Mikan even registered what she was doing, her feet rushed her forwards.

“J-Junko, you’re hurt!” Mikan took Junko’s arm in her hands and carefully inspected the wound. Mikan felt Junko’s eyes on her but being in her element like this, and being so concerned for Junko’s wellbeing, outweighed her shyness. “When did this happen?” The wound still looked fresh, but some blood had crusted at the edges.

“I don’t know,” Junko said, shrugging as if the giant gash was no big deal. She didn’t even look like she was in pain. “Maybe an hour ago.”

Mikan frowned, barely holding the shudder in her throat. “It’s been that long? Why haven’t you got this looked at?”

“’Cause I couldn’t find you.”

Guilt tore through Mikan—she was up here about to kill herself when Junko needed her—but she forced logic to overcome her feelings. “T-there’s other nurses on campus. Any of them could—”

“Why would I want some basic bitch when I could have you?”

Everything about that sentence froze Mikan in her tracks, her heart slamming almost painfully against her rib cage.

“You... wanted me?”

Junko’s smile softened her whole expression. “You’re the best of the best. Talent like yours should be cherished and used, not thrown away like this.”

Mikan didn’t know why Junko was trying so hard for her, and she didn’t know if she believed her, but it felt nice to be valued. The way Junko looked at her made her feel... well, she wasn’t sure what it made her feel, but she wanted to feel more of it. She never wanted Junko to stop looking at her. Was that enough of a reason to stay alive?

Maybe it might have been, but Junko was about to give her an unbeatable one.

“If you can’t stay alive for yourself, stay alive for me.” Junko stepped closer until they were chest to chest. The close proximity made Mikan dizzy and her hand slid down Junko’s injured arm, smearing both their skin red. Junko breathed against her, hot and sweet, and Mikan momentarily forgot how to breathe herself. “Stay alive to help me when I need you.”

It took another moment to remember how to speak.

“How... how often do you think you’ll need me?”

Junko leaned forward, her lips brushing against Mikan’s ear.

“ _Often_.”

Mikan blushed and bit her lip, but not hard enough to stop her smile.

* * *

After that day Junko was a frequent visitor in the nurse’s office and she wouldn’t accept help from anyone other than Mikan, always making a fuss when someone else tried to treat her.

“Junko, y-you know the other nurses are just as q-qualified as I am,” Mikan tried to explain as she finished cleaning a cut on Junko’s calf that was, apparently, a sports injury. As far as Mikan was aware, Junko didn’t play sports. “T-technically more, since they have degrees.”

“And let those bitches penetrate me with their filthy half-chub needles? Hell no.” Junko scoffed, but her expression quickly shifted to a smirk, her bright blue eyes sparkling. “You’re the only one I want inside me, Mikan.”

It took all of Mikan’s willpower to ignore how that seductive purr of a sentence made her feel and she forced logic to overcome the sudden warmth spiking at her core. She avoided Junko’s gaze and focused on bandaging her wound. “D-do you really get hurt like this a lot? I’m in the nurse’s office all the t-time and you only started showing up after that d-day on the roof.”

Junko pouted. “You saying you don’t like seeing me?”

“N-no, I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean it like that!” On instinct Mikan’s hands flew in front of her face as if to defend herself like she would normally need to after apologizing, and it took a few panicked seconds to remember that Junko wasn’t going to hurt her. She slowly lowered her arms and tried to do the same to her heart rate before speaking her mind around the one person she could. “I... I love seeing you. It’s just, it seems like you’re getting hurt on p-purpose as a reason to come here, and if I’m not around you won’t let anyone else treat your injuries. N-not to mention how these injuries could affect your modelling work.”

Junko raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “Something wrong with that?”

“Um, a f-few things.” Mikan nervously wrung her hands together. “I just don’t really understand.”

“Then I’ll make you understand.” Junko glanced around and gestured with her hands. “Do you have one of those things that lets you listen to my heartbeat?”

Mikan tilted her head. “A stethoscope?”

“That’s the bitch. Use it on me.”

Mikan didn’t know how this was relevant to anything—plus a stethoscope was meant for so much more than just listening to someone’s heartbeat—but she grabbed the device nonetheless, positioning the eartips in her ears until most other sounds in the room become muted. She had a lot of available skin at Junko’s chest to work with but with a giggle Junko stretched out the opening in her blazer even further. Mikan blushed, unable to deny how generous the view was, but forced herself to remain in her professional mindset as she used her index and middle finger to press the diaphragm to Junko’s chest.

At first Junko’s heartbeat seemed normal and Mikan wondered why they were doing this, but the longer they remained like that the faster it pounded. The rise and fall of Junko’s chest became obvious and heavy and Junko laid a hand on top of Mikan’s, pressing the diaphragm firmer against herself. Mikan glanced up and Junko’s face was much closer to hers than before, her pupils dilated.

Mikan froze, feeling her own heartbeat match the one thudding in her ears. What... what was happening?

Swiftly, Junko snatched the stethoscope. Despite Mikan’s protests she put the headset in her own ears and pressed the diaphragm to Mikan’s chest. Mikan gulped; she didn’t need the stethoscope to know her heart was now positively thundering.

A grin stretched Junko’s lips ear to ear and she threw the stethoscope away. “Sounds to me like you understand perfectly.”

Mikan opened her mouth to respond, to say _anything_ , but no sound came out, and Junko used this opportunity to grip her chin and hold her in place.

“You ever kissed anyone, Mikan?” Junko asked, voice lowering and her eyes doing the same.

Mikan whimpered, staring at Junko’s glossy pink lips as well. They were getting closer. “Not... not willingly.”

The words barely emerged, a ghost of a murmur, but when they did Junko’s face fell. She pulled away and stood up from the bed so abruptly it nearly gave Mikan whiplash; it was like everything that just happened was a hallucination. At first Mikan thought Junko was going to leave but her heels made a pattern of _click-click-clicks_ as she paced the room, looking lost in thought.

“Junko... are you okay?” Mikan asked, concerned.

“I don’t know,” Junko said, a faraway look on her face as she kept pacing. “That’s what makes it exciting.”

That made Mikan nervous and she wasn’t sure why. “Junko, is this about what I just said? I-I’m sorry, please forgive me, I shouldn’t have said it. No one needs to hear about the past of s-someone as disgusting as me, especially you.”

The clicking heels finally stopped as Junko turned to face her. “Girl, you really need to stop apologizing so much. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

Mikan curled in on herself and wished she could sew her mouth shut. “O-okay, I’m sorry.”

Junko sighed, rubbing at her face. “Just spit it out. Don’t be a one pump chump about this. Grow a vagina and see it through.”

Junko’s attempts at motivation were so strange—especially because they usually worked. If Junko wanted to hear her speak, she would. That’s all there was to it.

“There’s... there’s no specific story to tell,” Mikan said, pressing her fingers together as her mind recounted several uncomfortable, but monotonous, memories. “I’ve gone through every type of bullying you can imagine since I was little. Some people call me names. Some people hit me. Some people... touch me. I learned it was easier to let them. It’s not that I like being treated that way, but I’d rather have negative attention than none at all.”

Junko was quiet for a moment and then, after a click of her tongue, “Do your parents help you?”

Mikan smiled sadly. “They were my first bullies.”

Junko didn’t seem surprised as she plopped back down on the bed, swinging her legs back and forth. Occasionally her boots brushed against Mikan’s legs and Mikan flinched every time.

“You’re fascinating, Mikan Tsumiki,” Junko said, and Mikan thought her name actually sounded beautiful when Junko said it; how her lips and tongue curved around it like a lover. There was kindness, maybe even respect, in Junko’s tone but her gaze seemed lost, as if she were so consumed by her thoughts that her reality was blurred. “So much shit has gone wrong for you, shit continues going wrong for you, but even when I saw you on that roof you weren’t in despair. You were long past that point already. You were in acceptance. You accepted things the way they were. Most people can’t do that.”

Mikan shrugged, still smiling, but it held no feeling. “It got easier once I accepted I was never going to be happy.”

Suddenly Junko’s gaze seemed much more focused. “And if you became happy? What then?”

Mikan knew better. “I won’t.”

Junko stared at her for awhile, analysing, inspecting, and based on her sigh and how she leaned back on her hands she didn’t like what she found.

“I was gonna kiss you, in case that wasn’t obvious,” Junko said, and Mikan’s heart skipped a beat. “But I was only gonna do that ‘cause I was sure you had the hots for me, too. And, like, I know I’m not wrong about that, who wouldn’t have the hots for me, but I’m not going to kiss you if you don’t want that, too.”

“B-but I do!” Mikan panicked, stutters and jumbled words pouring from her throat in a desperate attempt to salvage this situation. And this wasn’t a lie to keep Junko’s attention, either. The problem was Mikan didn’t understand how she felt, didn’t understand why the thought of kissing Junko made her not want to die, thus she didn’t know how to explain herself. “I mean... I just...”

Junko shook her head, looking more indifferent by the minute, and Mikan started shaking so hard she thought she might vomit. “No, you just told me you were never going to be happy. That you don’t _want_ to be happy. Why would you want me to kiss you if it wouldn’t make you happy?”

“I...” Mikan stopped as quickly as she started, truly unsure how to answer. Her thoughts were a tornado of white noise and somehow she knew nothing she said right now would appease Junko. Nothing would be good enough.

Like always, _she_ wasn’t good enough.

Junko stood from the bed, the harsh tap of her boots against the linoleum making Mikan jolt. “You’re boring me,” Junko said flatly, inspecting her nails instead of looking at the fresh hurt painting Mikan’s face. “Figure out what you want, Mikan. Keep living as a husk, or open yourself back up to hope and despair. Both options are fine, but only one includes me.”

Junko left, each fading click of her heels sending a raw wave of pain throughout Mikan’s body. Mikan’s heart throbbed in her chest, yet somehow her chest felt hollow, as if Junko had ripped out her heart and taken it with her.

Mikan tried to smile but, without Junko, she couldn’t.

* * *

The next day Junko didn’t come to the nurse’s office and Mikan wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Mikan didn’t know what to say to her yet but she did want to be in her presence.

Junko made Mikan feel less alone.

Mikan didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Though, she wasn’t sure if Junko was a good person. She was rude and harsh and manipulative, she bullied her sister and who knows who else, and people seemed to respect her out of fear and lust rather than affection. But maybe it was because of all that that Mikan could have faith in her. Junko never pretended to be anything she wasn’t, and wasn’t afraid to take risks to get what she wanted. It made some people hate her but at least she was true to herself. Mikan wished she could be more like that.

Plus, regardless of Junko’s morals or lack thereof, she’d protected Mikan from bullies. She stopped herself from kissing Mikan when she was unsure if Mikan wanted her to.

And she saved Mikan’s life.

So Mikan took time to think about it, hopefully not too long, and came to a conclusion.

Good or not, Mikan owed her, and Mikan loved her.

Mikan couldn’t lose her.

She searched for Junko all over the school grounds, quickly realizing during her fruitless attempt it had always been Junko to seek her out originally. Mikan had never made an effort to look for her before. That was going to change after this. She was going to prove to Junko how much she genuinely wanted her, and prove to herself that not only could she be happy, but she deserved to be.

Unfortunately, during her search in one of the hallways Mikan ran into the bully that cut her hair the day she met Junko and, as much as she tried to fight it, all her old instincts immediately kicked in.

“I-I’m so sorry, please forgive me! You can t-touch me if you want!”

The girl shoved her, hard, and Mikan twisted her ankle on the way down. She gasped in pain, cradling her foot. Students crowded around them, blocking most of the hallway. Some laughed, some pulled out their phones, but even the ones that looked appalled did nothing to help her.

“Gross!” The bully gagged, pointing a finger at Mikan. “As if anyone would want to touch _you_.”

Normally this would have been like every other bullying she endured. Faceless people taunting her, cameras clicking, scissors snipping, zippers loosening. She would have cowered and squeaked, trying to protect herself while simultaneously ensuring all their attention was on her.

_Look at me. Keep looking at me. Never stop looking at me._

But now, none of that mattered. There was only one person that Mikan wanted to look at her, and she held on to the hope that this person still wanted to see her.

“Are you sure about that?” Mikan asked, voice both dry and cheerful. Most of the students were stunned silent as she started defending herself and Mikan giggled, a blush rising to her cheeks. She wouldn’t stutter this time. “I think there’s someone better than _you_ who does.”

The bully snarled. “Oh, that’s it you little bitch—”

“Call for me and I shall appear!”

The sea of students parted and Junko stepped through like she was on the catwalk, skin glowing and hair bouncing, looking akin to a goddess. With each familiar click of heels Mikan was closer and closer to crying. Mikan had never seen someone look more beautiful. Junko stopped by her side and waved, smiling as if their fight in the nurse’s office never happened. Mikan bit her lip to hold in a sob.

Junko was going to save her again. Junko acknowledged her. Junko cared.

The bully glared at the new arrival. “Oh great, you again.”

Her words were weak and it was almost as if she said them just to tear Junko’s attention away from Mikan.

And Junko didn’t seem to like that one bit.

“Do I know you?” Junko squinted at the bully who gave an offended gasp. “Oh wait, shit, is that you Scissorhands? Didn’t recognize you without the, y’know, only thing that made you recognizable.” Junko cackled but sighed soon after. “Man, this is just sad. If your insult game is so weak that you gotta resort to violence you’re really not worth anyone’s time. Like, did you hear what Mikan just said to you?” Junko gestured her way and Mikan blushed at the eyes that followed. “She’s the one on the ground but she just fucking _destroyed_ you and no one here is gonna forget that.” Junko grinned, hands on her hips and her chin held high as if a crown adorned her head. “Why don’t you run along now. Go find your scissors and trim your own hair a bit, huh? Then you can bend over and let someone else _destroy_ you.”

Junko made some obscene snipping motions with her fingers at her crotch and the bully’s face flushed with anger, not hesitating in pulling back her arm for a swing.

Junko snapped her fingers and without even a second passing Mukuro appeared in front of her, catching the punch aimed at her face.

“If you value this hand,” Mukuro must have squeezed because the bully cried out in pain, “you will never threaten my sister again.”

Mukuro gave a harsh twist and the bully shrieked, yanking her arm back and cradling her wrist. Mikan briefly noticed her crying, but definitely noticed the way the students who were previously laughing at her were now laughing at the bully as she ran off, tail between her legs.

Junko knelt down to be eye level with Mikan and Mukuro performed a wide stance in front of them, using her body to shield them from their audience as much as possible. Mukuro held a hand to the side of her skirt, ready and waiting, and Mikan could only imagine what weapons the Ultimate Soldier had concealed under her clothes.

Either way, Mikan was thankful for her protection... and even more thankful to peer into the brilliant blue eyes she missed so much.

“Mikan, _queen_ , that was glorious,” Junko said, her wide grin infectious. “Using me to insult your enemy _and_ to boast? Gotta say, love your style.”

Mikan giggled nervously and tucked her hair behind her ear. “People are p-probably going to think you l-like me now. S-sorry for hurting your reputation like that.”

Junko shook her head. “Whether it’s true or not it gets people talking, which causes chaos, and nothing is more fun than chaos.” Junko ruffled her hair. “So congrats on not being boring, Miss Ultimate Nurse.”

Every part of Mikan was singing. Those were the words she needed to hear. Those were the words she wanted Junko to keep saying to her. She’d do anything to keep Junko’s attention and praise.

She... wanted it. Genuinely wanted it and hoped for it. It gave her a reason to keep going.

“It was sc-scary,” Mikan said, “but... then you showed up. Just as I h-hoped you would.”

Junko carefully straightened the hair she just messed up, avoiding Mikan’s gaze. “Hope, huh?”

“I-I haven’t felt hope in a long time, but now I can feel it again... b-because of you.”

Junko’s eyes fell and she didn’t reply. Mikan was normally good at reading faces but Junko had been an enigma since the beginning. She just had to hope what she said didn’t upset her. Maybe Junko was just embarrassed or something.

“How’s your foot?” Junko asked instead.

Mikan gently traced her ankle that was beginning to swell. “Nothing’s broken. Will p-probably heal in a few days if I treat it and d-don’t put weight on it.”

Junko’s mood brightened like a light switch flicked on. “Welp, can’t have you walking to the nurse’s office then, can we? Up and at ‘em, Sugartits.”

Mikan blushed at the familiar nickname—the first one Junko ever called her—and turned even redder when Junko picked her up bridal style for everyone to see. Mikan whimpered, pushing her face into Junko’s shoulder to hide from their stares, but even though she was embarrassed she couldn’t deny how warm and safe she felt in Junko’s arms.

“Mukuro, my flesh and blood, my dearest wombmate.” Somehow that was probably the nicest thing Mikan had ever heard Junko say to Mukuro. Then Junko looked over her shoulder, thick blonde hair abruptly tickling Mikan’s nose, and added, “Make sure we aren’t followed.”

That made it sound like they were going somewhere secret and dangerous rather than just the nurse’s office. That was where Junko planned on taking her, right? Not that it really mattered, Mikan supposed. She’d follow Junko anywhere, swollen ankle or no.

Mukuro wasn’t fazed and actually seemed pleased to be of assistance. “Yes, Junko.”

Junko walked off and Mukuro shadowed them; close enough to protect them if need be, but far enough away to give them space.

Mikan looked up at her saviour and Junko looked down with a shit eating grin, sending Mikan’s heart in a frenzy. She couldn’t keep her composure at that smile so she buried her face in Junko’s chest and was so surprised, and excited, to hear Junko’s heart beating fast as well.

Mikan loved her, and maybe... maybe Junko had feelings for her, too. Maybe she wasn’t just teasing about the kiss last time.

Maybe Mikan could hope.

They arrived at the nurse’s office as Mikan suspected and the nurse on duty rushed to help but Junko held Mikan tighter and snarled, animalistic and protective, and the nurse gasped and fled the room. Mikan would be lying if she said heat didn’t spread through her from that display. The door closed after and Mikan realized that must have been Mukuro giving them privacy by standing watch outside.

Perhaps Junko’s morals were still up in the air, but Mikan could tell that Mukuro wasn’t a bad person; she just wanted her sister content and safe and Mikan related to that more than anyone else.

Junko gently put Mikan on the bed, treating her as if all her bones were broken rather than the reality of a mere swollen foot. Mikan could tell Junko had no idea what to do about her twisted ankle but that she clearly wanted to help, so she asked Junko to bring her an elastic bandage from the drawer. Mikan sat up and used the bandage to compress her ankle, ensuring it wasn’t too tight, and then asked Junko to grab an ice pack from the freezer. Mikan would have held it against her ankle herself but for some reason Junko insisted, and the coldness of the ice pack combined with the gentle, teasing strokes of Junko’s fingertips had Mikan shivering.

She was so used to taking care of others; it felt nice that someone wanted to take care of her for once.

“T-thank you for all this. You’re...”

“Hopelessly perfect? I know, I know, but feel free to remind me.”

Mikan giggled. “I was going to say very kind, but you’re not wrong. To me... you are perfect. You’re everything.”

Junko studied her for a long moment. Had she been too honest? Did she say too much again?

“W-what is it?” Mikan finally asked, pressing her index fingers together nervously.

“You stood up for yourself even before I got there. You had no idea I would show up but you took that step anyway.” Junko ran her hand through Mikan’s hair. It was comforting the first time Junko did so and would continue to be forever. “What I said last time really sunk in, huh?”

“It did.” Mikan took a breath and focused on the loop of Junko’s slender fingers through her hair; the way her claws grazed the nape of her neck each time. “W-what you said to me hurt a lot but it was what I needed to hear. I was afraid I’d never be able to make the steps to be better, and I was afraid I’d never get to s-see you again because of it. It’s... it’s still going to take me awhile, I-I know that, to find my self-worth. To accept that I deserve happiness. But I’m going to try no matter how hard it is, and I have you to thank for that.” Mikan blushed and looked away. “I’m still not sure why you’ve been so kind and patient with me, but please know how grateful I am to you.”

“I thought I made that pretty clear for you last time, but I’ll spell it out again if I have to.” Mikan looked back just as Junko leaned forward, expression serious and eyes gleaming. “You ever kissed anyone, Mikan?”

There it was. The same question she was asked last time. But this time she had the opportunity to change her answer; to create a new one, a positive one, thanks to the beginning of her self-discovery.

She couldn’t be a husk anymore. Not if she wanted Junko in her life. She had to take the risk.

Mikan gripped Junko’s tie and yanked, smashing their lips together. Mikan swallowed Junko’s surprised noise and put everything she had into this kiss—the first one she ever wanted with someone. Junko’s lips were so soft, they were intoxicating, _everything_ , and Mikan had never wanted something as much as she wanted to keep kissing Junko. She kept a tight hold of Junko’s tie, keeping her still, and used her other hand to cup Junko’s cheek and pull her closer. It felt slightly warm.

When Mikan pulled away for air and saw the stunned look on Junko’s face it took everything in her not to apologize. She almost reached out to fix the crease in Junko’s tie and had to physically stop herself from so.

She couldn’t erase what she did. She knew Junko wouldn’t want her to. She just had to wait and see if her risk was worth it.

Junko quickly snapped out of her daze, eyes sharp and aware. “Interesting,” she said, licking her lips, and Mikan’s eyes were glued to that tongue. “How are you feeling? Be honest.” Mikan’s gaze shifted when Junko lifted a hand to brush her thumb across Mikan’s trembling lower lip. “I want to hear _everything_.”

Mikan shuddered, butterflies like a hurricane in her stomach. No one ever asked how she was feeling before. No one ever cared for the answer. How was she supposed to make sense of her thoughts with Junko treating her that way?

It took a few tries before words finally came out. “I-I’m nervous and excited. I never thought I could do something like that. My h-heart is going c-crazy.” Mikan tried to remember the words Junko had used the other day and tried to be confident, or at least appear so, when she said them. “I hope I can kiss you again. I’d be happy if I could, but it would bring me despair if I couldn’t.”

Mikan must have said the right thing because it was like the final piece of the puzzle in Junko’s mind had been placed, the fulfillment and realization shining through in her expression.

Junko climbed on top of the bed, mindful of Mikan’s compressed ankle, straddling her hips. Mikan’s eyes blew wide, her heart nearly bursting from her chest as Junko slowly, seductively, leaned down and pressed her body against hers. Junko laced their fingers together and pinned Mikan’s arms above her head. Mikan fought the urge to squirm but felt both safe and overwhelmingly hot under Junko’s weight and control. Junko’s breath was scorching and sweet against her skin as her lips trailed up her neck.

“A girl after my own heart,” Junko whispered in her ear and Mikan shivered. She squeezed her hands. “Welcome to your new world, Mikan Tsumiki.”

Junko kissed her softly, lovingly, and Mikan relaxed, smiling against her lips.

* * *

“I don’t understand why you did this.”

Junko sighed, ceasing her petting of purple tresses. She looked up from Mikan who snoozed peacefully in her lap to Mukuro who sat cross-legged at the other end of the bed cleaning one of her guns, only visible in their dark dorm room thanks to the glow of a computer monitor.

“And I don’t understand why you exist, yet here you are,” Junko growled.

Mukuro seemed to completely ignore her comment. “Her medical expertise is pristine so I understand her usefulness, but what I don’t understand is the way you went about recruiting her. You told me you were going to brainwash her, but at some point you stopped wanting to do that, didn’t you?”

Junko shrugged. “No need for brainwashing. She’s in love with me. She’ll be on board with the plan.”

“You’re willing to risk that? Brainwashing would have been easier.”

“And way less fun,” Junko said with a scoff. “Are you seriously still talking? I can’t hear suddenly, I don’t know.”

Mukuro kept running her mouth anyway. Why the fuck was she still talking? Mikan was trying to sleep.

“You don’t just want her under your control.” Mukuro put her gun aside and handled a bigger one, wiping it down with a cloth. “You want her safe, and the safest place in your new world would be by your side. Why is that? What changed?”

Junko pretended to ignore her but felt her anger rising. She had a plan and her gross, dumb as bricks older sister had no right to question it. So what if her plan changed a little along the way? No plan was perfect on its first draft. Anyone with more than two functioning brain cells knew that.

But then Mukuro looked at her and there was something in her eyes that Junko had never seen before. “Or am I wrong?”

She saw red and struggled keeping her voice at a decent volume. “Of course you’re wrong, skunk-breath. You’re always wrong! Go reek in the corner if you want to keep opening your mouth.”

Mukuro blushed and obeyed without question, but that meant she was going to keep talking. Junko gritted her teeth, focusing on Mikan’s soft, patterned breathing and the warmth of her body to calm down.

“You could have let her keep getting bullied,” Mukuro said firmly. “You didn’t. You could have let her jump off that roof. You didn’t. You could have ignored her feelings for you. You didn’t, and even encouraged them. I want to believe you’re just doing this so her despair is overwhelming when she loses the hope she’s been building, when she loses _you_ , and maybe that was your plan originally. So why am I getting the impression that that’s not your intention anymore?”

Because Junko no longer understood her own intentions.

“Because maybe something resembling a human brain finally grew between your ears.”

She knew that insult wouldn’t deter Mukuro but her sister still hesitated to say what was on her mind, and when she finally did her voice was soft and bewildered.

“Do you... actually love her?”

 _Finally_ , a question that didn’t bore Junko to tears.

“I don’t know,” Junko said with a smile, petting Mikan’s recently cut hair again. “That’s what makes it exciting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The funnest part of writing this whole thing was not even knowing Junko's intentions myself, since this fic was originally going to call attention to relationship abuse. Is she just being manipulative or does some part of her actually care? For me, in the end, she does care in her own way even if she doesn't understand how or why, but honestly you can view it however you like!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated. Have a good day! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m here,” Junko whispered. “You’re okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired so I decided to add another chapter to this fic! The first chapter can still be read as a stand-alone though so you don't need to continue to this chapter if you don't want to.  
> Warning: the last section of this chapter contains heavy themes including implied non-con (NOT because of Junko, just want to make that clear). If that would trigger you please don't read it.

Mikan could confidently say her life had improved since meeting Junko Enoshima.

Rumours around school labelled Mikan as Junko’s plaything, her property, and even though Junko had never called her those things it was how the students saw her. Regardless of their assumptions it was clear the students knew Junko watched over her, and thus most bullies were now afraid to approach her. Some still came after her—that may never fully be avoided—but only the brave ones, and none of them ever attempted to cut her hair.

Honestly, Mikan didn’t care anymore. Let them push her. Let them try cutting her hair. She knew Junko would come and save her and fix her hair like she always did. No one could truly hurt her so long as she had Junko.

It had been a few weeks since the day they kissed in the nurse’s office. Mikan remembered it fondly even though she and Junko had shared many more since. She was shy and nervous about it every time, wondering if that kiss would be the one to make Junko realize just how disgusting Mikan was and she’d be abandoned again.

And then Junko would kiss back, soft and warm, and all of Mikan’s fears would vanish.

Mikan woke that morning from a thin line of sunlight washing over her eyes. She groaned faintly, eyelids cracking open to see a waterfall of thick, strawberry blonde hair in front of her. Across the blonde waterfall came a pattern of soft snores and Mikan smiled.

She stayed in Junko and Mukuro’s dorm sometimes when she didn’t want to sleep alone. Sometimes Junko declined but only when she had “things” to do that night, never disclosing what said things were. Mikan was curious, of course, but never pressed. If it was something she needed to know then Junko would tell her, and Junko was allowed to have a life outside of her. Mikan knew she was clingy, she knew, but she also knew she was getting better. She wanted Junko around all the time but understood that Junko needed a lot of space, and Mikan didn’t want to annoy her.

Most nights Junko accepted her with open arms, though, like last night. It was never for anything sexual; despite Junko’s common innuendos they had never done anything like that, and based on how Junko made sure Mikan truly wanted that first kiss they shared, Mikan knew she would have to be the one to make the first move if their relationship was to ever go further physically.

Mikan did want that someday. There was no one else Mikan wanted to be intimate with than Junko. She wanted to be wholly hers. But for now Mikan just... liked sleeping next to her. Liked seeing Junko undo her pigtails. Liked getting a kiss goodnight. Liked falling asleep in Junko’s arms. Liked waking up to her soft snores.

She reached over and ran her fingers through Junko’s hair, over and over again. She loved Junko’s hair; it was soft and bountiful, like a blanket of fur against her hand. Mikan loved the colour, too. The students at this school had a variety of hair colours but this shade of blonde wasn’t very common. It suited those ice blue eyes Mikan loved just as much, too.

Mikan adjusted the messy locks atop Junko’s head and then paused, squinting in the dim lighting.

Junko’s roots. They were... red?

“If you’re gonna give a girl head at ass o’clock in the morning don’t fucking stop halfway through.”

Mikan jumped, so caught in her thoughts she didn’t realize her beloved’s snores had stopped.

“I-I’m sorry, Junko.”

Junko flipped over to face her, blue eyes cloudy and lidded. Actually, were they blue? Suddenly Mikan was questioning her vision. Junko looked cute when she was tired but Mikan’s anxiety was growing too quickly for her to appreciate the sight.

“You can make it up to me later. It’s way too fucking early. Go back to sleep.”

Oh no. She annoyed her. Why did she think she had the right to touch her? She was going to get mad, she was going to leave, _don’t yell,_ _don’t hate me, forgive me, please don’t leave_ —

“Mikan. Roll over.”

 _She doesn’t want to see my face, of course she doesn’t, I’m disgusting and annoying, disgusting pig, I don’t deserve her, I’ll never deserve her, she pities me, she’ll never love me like I love her_ _—_

Mikan was practically hyperventilating by the time she obeyed, turning to face the other bed in the room that contained a Mukuro sized lump.

 _Why does she waste her time on me, I’m horrible, I’m annoying, she’s better off without me, I don’t deserve her, I don’t deserve to sleep in her bed, to sleep next to her, to have her near me_ _—_

Junko folded around her like a cocoon, breasts full against her back and legs entangling with hers. Mikan gasped, suddenly so warm, and bit her lip from feeling Junko’s breath on the nape of her neck. Red nails trailed down Mikan’s arm before the hand that guided her away from the roof’s railings held her own gently and protectively.

“I’m here,” Junko whispered. “You’re okay.”

Junko kissed the back of her head, soft and warm, and Mikan smiled as all her fears vanished.

* * *

When Mikan woke again it was midday and she couldn’t feel Junko’s warmth, and she would have panicked if it weren’t for Mukuro’s presence. Mukuro lounged across her bed cleaning one of her guns and looked up once she noticed Mikan was awake.

“Junko will be back soon,” Mukuro said. “She needed to take care of something.”

Cryptic as always. Mikan already knew she wouldn’t get a straight answer but as long as Junko was safe that was all that mattered.

But Mukuro usually stayed by Junko’s side to keep her safe. In fact, Mukuro seemed unusually calm despite Junko’s absence. Normally Mukuro’s leg would be bouncing by now.

“Why aren’t you with Junko?” Mikan asked.

“She didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Mikan’s heart skipped a beat. That was... actually really thoughtful. Most people, anyone else honestly, wouldn’t have taken her anxieties into account like that.

Junko wanted her to feel safe. She’d been looking out for her since the day they met. Mikan still didn’t know how to handle that.

Mikan knew she couldn’t respond without tripping over her words so she busied herself with preparing for the day ahead. Mikan changed into the spare clothes she brought over, a lilac sundress rather than her regular uniform, having no intention to attend classes especially since it was early afternoon already. She wanted to fix up her hair but hesitated; it was so much nicer when Junko brushed it for her.

“You were panicking earlier today,” Mukuro mentioned nonchalantly.

“O-oh. Did I wake you up, too?” Mikan sat back down on Junko’s bed and nervously smoothed out the folds in her dress just to give her hands something to do. “I-I’m sorry.”

“I’m a soldier. I always sleep with one eye open. Never worry about waking me.”

A minute of silence. Mukuro inspected her gun and then switched to another. Honestly Mikan was amazed how quickly she grew comfortable with sleeping in the same room as someone who regularly handled semi-automatics.

Mukuro counted her bullets and then seemed to give up with a sigh. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Now that Mikan thought about it, she’d never actually had a solo conversation with Mukuro before. Junko was always involved in one way or another, usually insulting Mukuro until she stopped talking. Mikan loved her, she really did, but she wanted to get to know Mukuro more too, and she knew that would probably never happen with Junko around.

“S-sure. What’s on your mind?”

“You are.”

Mikan blinked. What?

“I didn’t... sorry,” Mukuro flushed and rubbed the back of her neck, “I didn’t mean it like that. Let me start again.” Mukuro scooted forward to dangle her legs off the bed, planting her feet on the floor. She leaned forward, elbows to her knees and resting her chin at her fist.

“My sister cares a lot about you. I know she doesn’t say it, maybe she’s never said it, but she does. I’ve learned how to read her every expression by now. And since meeting you, Junko’s been making new expressions. Ones I never thought she could make. So... thank you for that. Junko’s emotions have been a lot more genuine lately and that’s all because of you. You’re important to my sister and that means you’re important to me, too. This may be a little forward, but please know I’d protect you and Junko with my life, so please rely on me.”

Mukuro was bowing at that point, nose to her knees, and Mikan was nearly a flustered mess, unsure how to process such a proper and moving speech. Mikan realized she probably just acquired a bodyguard, someone who could and probably _would_ kill someone if she deemed it necessary, and that was a lot more responsibility than Mikan felt she could handle.

Something resembling words blubbered from her lips and she frantically waved her hands hoping it would get Mukuro to stop treating her so formally.

“I-I really hope it doesn’t come to that, but I appreciate the support,” Mikan said, and only then did Mukuro raise her head. Mikan sucked in a deep breath, remembering why she wanted to talk with Mukuro in the first place. “I... I really love Junko. It’s relieving to hear from you that she cares. And I’ve always hoped you and I could be friends.”

Mukuro glanced away awkwardly. “I’ve never had a friend before.”

Mikan smiled sadly. “Neither have I.”

Mukuro didn’t seem to know what to add but she didn’t deny Mikan’s proposal of friendship, either. Mikan took that as a win and wondered how much Mukuro was willing to share with her if she considered them friends.

“A-actually,” Mikan began, “now that we’re talking, can I ask you something a little personal?”

“Sure.”

Mikan bit her lip, aware she could be diving into dangerous waters. “Why... why do you let Junko bully you?”

Mukuro’s eyes didn’t turn hard at the question per se, but she seemed more guarded. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Y-yes you do. Out of everyone at this school, I’d recognize a bully on sight. Junko says things to you that even my worst bullies have never said to me. Why do you let her treat you like that? Why don’t you stand up for yourself? I know that may be hypocritical coming from me,” Mikan wrung her hands together, “but you’re much stronger than I am.”

“Junko means everything to me. The insults don’t bother me as long as I get to stay by her side. She acts like she hates me, but I believe deep down a part of her does care. Or at the very least, recognizes my reliability.” Mukuro shrugged. “That’s enough for me.”

Mikan’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you want to hear her say that she loves you? J-just once?”

Honestly, Mikan wasn’t sure if that question was better directed at Mukuro or herself. Mikan didn’t know if Junko loved her. She probably didn’t. But she’d do anything to hear it.

Mukuro looked down to the gun by her hip. “There’s no place in my life for hope like that.”

Hearing that hurt more than Mikan expected. She wasn’t sure what kind of answer she anticipated from Mukuro but there was a lot of hidden pain in those words; it was a statement of someone who had accepted things the way they were because they knew it would never get better. A husk of a person.

It was who Mikan was before Junko saved her. It was who Mukuro was because Junko trapped her.

Mikan wanted to help. Wanted to tell Mukuro to have hope. Wanted to talk to Junko about it.

She had no idea where to start.

“Mukuro I swear to god if you’re tryna steal my girl.”

The door slammed open and there Junko stood with a large grin, looking absolutely stunning and not a hair out of place. She propped a hand on her hip, the strap of her small black and white purse sliding down her shoulder. She wore her signature pigtails but sported a different outfit consisting of jean shorts and a tight black tank top that barely contained her cleavage.

Mikan swooned and barely stopped herself from falling off the bed.

“I would never,” Mukuro replied, snapping Mikan back to the present.

“More like you _could_ never. My nurse schedules appointments for me and me _only_.”

“We were just talking.”

“About me though, right?”

The question wasn’t surprising. Of course they had been talking about her. When it came to Mikan and Mukuro, Junko commanded the room whether she was present or not.

Even though Junko was insulting Mukuro, it was true that she had left Mikan alone in Mukuro’s care. Junko had to trust her then. She had to hold some sort of affection for her if she relied on her to that level, right?

“Mikan, you look so cute!” Junko gushed, eyes roaming, and Mikan already felt butterflies in her belly. Junko pointed at her messy hair. “Hairdresser roleplay time! You’re lucky I never get bored of this one.”

Junko sat on her knees behind Mikan, fingertips caressing her collarbone as she brought all of Mikan’s hair behind her shoulders. A brush soon made contact with her tresses and the pattern of strokes had her closing her eyes, her muscles relaxing. She treasured this time with Junko more than anything else. If she focused it was as if she were still in that classroom, reliving that first experience she had with Junko over and over again.

A few minutes later and the brush was tossed aside, replaced with caresses from long, talented fingers. Then a chin rested atop Mikan’s head and large breasts pillowed the back. Mikan froze, suddenly very warm but a shiver shot up her spine anyway. Arms folded across her shoulders, keeping her close, and all she could hear and smell and feel was _Junko_ and Mikan was just thankful she had already been sitting down.

“Fuck class,” Junko said suddenly, loudly, and Mikan’s skull almost bashed into Junko’s chin when she jolted. “Let’s get out of here, Mikan.” Junko hopped off the bed and pointed a finger at the room’s other occupant. “You’ll take notes for me, right Mukuro?”

Mukuro nodded. “I can attend afternoon classes if that’s what you want, Junko.”

“You’re the best abortion ever.” Junko pinched her nose and winced. “Pop a tic tac before you go, though. I can smell you from here. Everyone choking from your B.O. would be the most boring credits roll ever.”

A small part of Mikan hoped Mukuro would defend herself. The larger part of her knew it was too much to hope for.

“C’mon, Mikan! Gotta go fast!”

Mikan yelped, being tugged out the door before she could even tell Mukuro goodbye. Junko’s nails dug into her wrist; not enough to be painful, but enough to encourage her to hurry to Junko’s side. Then Junko was smiling at her, rubbing the crescent moons on Mikan’s wrist in a silent apology before entwining their fingers.

Now that Mikan got a closer look, Junko’s roots weren’t red anymore.

She shook her head, smiling back at Junko.

She had been really tired earlier. She must have just imagined it.

* * *

As soon as the limo pulled up Mikan felt self-conscious. She had never been in one before and never thought she would get the chance, and now that it was here she felt severely underdressed and unprepared. She often forgot how popular Junko actually was; a fancy ride like this was probably how she travelled to her photo shoots all the time.

The driver was prepared to hold open the door for them but Junko shooed him back to the wheel, instead holding open the door for Mikan herself. Mikan blushed, still unsure how to handle Junko being so kind to her, and stumbled her way inside the vehicle.

Once on the road Junko shrugged her purse off her shoulder, leaving it on a different seat. Then she grabbed some wine glasses and poured them both a drink from an expensive looking bottle.

“D-drinking at this time of day?” Mikan questioned, accepting her glass with shaky fingers despite her concern.

“What? Nah, it’s just sparkling juice. I mean, there’s some hard stuff here too if you want it, but I usually stay away from it.” Junko grinned at Mikan’s surprised look. “Didn’t expect that from me, huh? I bet you thought I got smashed at every party I go to.”

That... was exactly what Mikan thought. She immediately felt bad. Now that she thought about it, how much about Junko did she really know?

Junko reached over and used her thumb to rub at the growing creases at Mikan’s brow. “Nuh-uh, none of that. That’s exactly the image I give off so I don’t blame you for thinking that way.” Junko’s grin became mischievous. “You probably pictured some other stuff too, right? Like me taking a shot from someone’s bellybutton?” Junko leaned in, glancing down. “Maybe yours?”

Breathing suddenly felt like an Olympic sport. Mikan hadn’t pictured that before but now she wasn’t picturing anything else.

“Or you could do that to me if you want.” Junko toyed with the ends of her shirt, teasing it up just enough to reveal a bellybutton piercing. “There’s more than enough liquor here.”

Mikan was going to faint.

“T-t-thank you for the juice!” Mikan said, gulping down the whole glass. It burned her throat but her cheeks burned more, worsening when Junko cackled wildly.

“So, Mikan, do you know why I stole you away from the confines of our high school today?” Junko asked in an authoritative tone, pretending to adjust invisible glasses on her nose.

“N-no, I figured you’d—”

“I’m taking you on a date!”

Mikan’s heart jolted. They’d never been on a date before. Mikan wasn’t even sure that Junko wanted to be seen in public with her.

“O-oh, really? Where?”

“No idea!”

Mikan nearly dropped her glass.“H-huh?”

“Planning out a date sounds so boring! Let’s just fuck around and see what happens.” Junko wrapped her arm around Mikan’s shoulders, pulling her closer to her side. “As long as you’re smiling by the end that’s all that matters.”

Mikan was smiling already.

They spent the next several minutes talking about nothing in particular. Well, it was mostly Junko talking, but Mikan was more than happy to listen. Junko could read the dictionary and Mikan would cling to every word and definition. She’d listen to every syllable spoken from those lips. Do anything that voice asked of her.

Within... within reason. Of course.

“Yo, Fifty Shades,” Junko called out a few minutes later to the sunglasses wearing limo driver, banging on the glass. “Slam on those brakes like you slammed into your sock last night.”

Mikan blushed from second-hand embarrassment, hiding her eyes under her hand. One day she would be used to Junko’s rude comments and sexual innuendos, but today was not that day.

The driver, naturally, didn’t slam on the breaks or they both would have gone flying; instead, he gently pulled to the curb of a quiet street.

Junko was quick to hop out and held out her hand for Mikan, gently ushering her from the car. Mikan blushed, feeling like a princess. Junko always treated her so kindly compared to the way she treated everyone and everything else—case in point with how unnecessarily hard she slammed the limo door before it drove off.

Mikan was a bit nervous now. She... she was really out on a date. Her first date. With Junko Enoshima.

“I hope the ride was to your pleasure, milady,” Junko said in a thick, exaggerated accent, bowing deeply.

Mikan giggled and didn’t miss the pleased grin she got in response. It was as if Junko knew she was getting nervous so she said something silly on purpose to make her laugh. She was so thoughtful.

“It was amazing, Junko. T-thank you.”

“I wouldn’t ride in some peasant’s hand-me-down scrapheap so no way would I force my girlfriend to, especially if I’m the one taking her out.”

Junko’s lips were still moving so she was probably still ranting but Mikan was caught on the word ‘girlfriend.’ It was the first time Junko had referred to her like that. Mikan knew—hoped—that’s what they were, or what they traditionally would be considering how close they were, but they had never really talked about it and at that point she had been too afraid to ask.

So to hear Junko call her that so casually, like it had been obvious, made Mikan’s heart sing. Giddy from that emotional high, she reached for Junko’s hand and laced their fingers together.

Junko stopped mid-speech, glancing at their hands. Then she grinned ear to ear, looking impressed at Mikan’s forwardness, and squeezed Mikan’s hand. Mikan bit her lip, weak for that smile as always.

She had to look away or she’d lose herself in that smile, eyes trailing down Junko’s arm to their hands, and it was only then that Mikan noticed something. “Oh Junko, you forgot your purse.”

Junko waved her hand. “Whatevs. I can buy a new one.”

Then, in the distance, Mikan heard some sort of noise. It was faint, but... it kind of sounded like an explosion.

“Junko, did you hear that?” Mikan asked, turning to face the direction they had come from.

Junko pulled her the opposite way. “No idea what you’re talking about, Sugartits; let’s go!”

* * *

Mikan was prepared for this to be the most wild afternoon she had ever experienced, so she was baffled and relieved when Junko’s idea of a date seemed... normal? Sure, Junko dragged her towards anything she found interesting or exciting and it was clear she had no plan or direction, but it was actually really endearing. Junko also took her shopping, buying a new purse for herself and a few outfits for Mikan that Mikan never would have bought otherwise.

But Junko said she looked hot in them in the changing room. Well, when Junko hadn’t been busy pinning her to the wall and kissing her. Junko knew how to draw every gasp and moan from Mikan like it was her job and no doubt every employee knew what they had been up to. Mikan knew she would never be able to set foot in that store again.

That had been the most scandalous part, though. Everything else had been decently relaxing. The mall was bustling with people, however, and Mikan had never fared well in large crowds and anxiety had built in the pit of her stomach. But then Junko’s hand was in hers, warm, protective, and suddenly no one else existed but Junko.

No one else mattered but Junko.

She had taken her to the park afterwards, a sensible choice for such a beautiful, sunny day, and it was just so... typical, like something every other couple would do, but something Mikan never thought she would experience. It didn’t seem in Junko’s character to do something so normal. So boring.

Was she doing it just so Mikan got to experience it?

“Look at that fountain, Mikan,” Junko said, a crimson nail pointing towards the sizable stone fountain in the middle of the park. She began pulling up her shirt. “Imma go jump in it.”

Panicking, Mikan’s hand rushed out to stop Junko’s. “H-how about we just sit near it instead?”

“Awww, you saying you don’t want to see me wet?”

Mikan’s cheeks burned red and she stammered, unable to make a response.

“Ah, you don’t want anyone _else_ to see me wet. Want me all to yourself, eh? Everyone wants a piece of this so I get that you might get jealous.” Junko smirked. “It’s hot when you fight for me.”

“How is it... how am I...?”

“Well, for one, I love seeing how much you want me. Boosts my never-ending ego. And two, it shows that deep down you think you deserve me. That’s not a bad thing so don’t start crying about it. It just means you’ve come really far in the past few weeks. When we first met you could barely even look at me. Now you want everyone to know I’m yours. What a self-confidence boost! Good job, Sugartits! A plus!” Junko fiddled with some invisible glasses, her tone becoming mature and authoritative. “I will be giving you pop quizzes concerning this matter so continue working hard!”

Mikan giggled nervously, still flustered, but couldn’t stop her smile. She wasn’t sure if she believed in Junko’s praise—it didn’t feel like she had come that far most days—but if that’s what Junko said then perhaps she had been making progress.

After living her whole life with a self-deprecating mindset it was extremely hard to break away from it, but she would keep trying if it meant she got to stay by Junko’s side. Junko made her really happy but Mikan knew that happiness could be amplified if she worked hard towards bettering herself.

Doing so might make Junko happy, too. That alone was enough for her to try her best.

They made their way towards the fountain, walking hand in hand, and Mikan noticed a group of kids playing. Well, that’s what it looked like at first. A longer look showed the kids were roughhousing a smaller boy, pushing him to the ground.

Bullying him.

“Junko, they’re hurting that boy!” Mikan said. “We have to go help him!”

“Huh? That ain’t our problem.”

“Junko, he’s crying.”

Junko blew a raspberry, completely aloof. “Let him cry. It builds character.”

Mikan frowned, tugging her hand out of Junko’s. “You didn’t let me get bullied and cry. You stood up for me and it changed my whole life. I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t helped me.”

Junko’s eyes widened and whatever she was going to say died on her lips. It was rare seeing Junko speechless, usually only happening when Mikan said or did something that Junko didn’t see coming—and Junko was prepared for almost everything.

Perhaps she wasn’t prepared to be reminded that Mikan would have been dead right now if not for her. Maybe there was more to it than that. Mikan couldn’t know. Junko didn’t talk about her feelings often. Mikan couldn’t know if she truly mattered to Junko.

But she had stunned her speechless. That had to mean something.

Her ice blue eyes swam with emotion, with confusion and confliction, but Junko didn’t manage to say anything before Mikan turned away and walked towards the children.

Seeing someone older approach made the young bullies scatter like flies. The small boy on the ground cried quietly, clutching at his knee.

Mikan knelt down to be eye level with him. “Are you okay?”

He looked up, wiping at his tears. “Y-yeah.”

“Why were they bullying you?”

“We were... we were just playing at first, but then...”

Mikan nodded. “I understand. I-I get bullied, too. But once I learned how to stand up for myself, it got a little easier.”

He gazed at her curiously. “How did you learn?”

Mikan smiled. “You see the blonde girl behind me that’s pretending not to look over here?”

He looked over her shoulder and nodded.

“She’s a really popular girl at my school. I’m a nobody. But she stood up for me when no one else would. She showed me how much better life can be when you have a little confidence in yourself. It’s still hard, but because of her I keep getting better.”

“Wow.” His eyes sparkled and a big grin broke out on his face. “Are you two gonna get married?”

Mikan’s face was beet red in less than a second. “W-what?”

“It sounds like she makes you really happy, so you two should get married!”

Mikan wanted to hide her face but he was looking at her with such enthusiasm, such hope, that she couldn’t turn away from him. Plus the idea of spending her life with Junko... of walking down the aisle and Junko waiting for her, either in a beautiful dress or a dashing suit...

She gulped, wiping some sweat from her forehead. “Ah, w-well, maybe... maybe one day.”

It looked like the boy was going to ask more about it but Mikan wouldn’t be able to handle more of that fantasy right now so she spoke before he had the chance. “A-anyways, would you like me to fix up your knee? I’m a nurse.”

He shyly looked away but presented the injury. “Yes, please.”

Being a nurse, Mikan always had some medical supplies on her, namely alcohol swabs and band-aids. The boy winced as she cleaned the scrape on his knee but didn’t fuss or complain.

This reminded Mikan of all the times she had tended to Junko’s injuries. She always made so many excuses for her cuts and gashes and would never let any other nurse touch her. Mikan didn’t miss Junko getting injured on purpose, but she did miss taking care of her. It felt nice being needed.

The boy sat patient and still as Mikan finished, unwrapping a bandage and pressing it gently but firmly against his knee.

“All done,” she chirped, putting away her supplies.

“Thank you, Miss Nurse!” he said, bouncing to his feet.

She stood up as well, brushing some grass from her legs. “It’s no problem at a—”

“Get away from my child!”

Mikan flinched from the loud voice and flinched again when she realized that voice was directed at her. Two large and furious looking adults stormed towards them and Mikan instinctively took a step back.

“Who are you?” bellowed the red faced woman. “Leave him alone!”

The man tugged the boy’s arm. “What did we tell you about talking to strangers?”

The boy struggled against his grip, gesturing to his bandaged knee. “She was just helping me, Dad!”

Neither adult seemed to listen to what the boy had to say.

“How dare you touch my child!” the woman yelled. “What did you do to him?”

“H-he got hurt,” Mikan tried to explain. Her voice barely emerged past the cotton in her throat. She couldn’t deal with confrontation. She still got bullied sometimes, sure, but this was a whole new experience. “I-I-I just wanted to help.”

“Mind your own business,” said the father. “We’re his parents. We’ll help him if he needs it.”

Mikan hugged herself, glancing around. “You weren’t nearby—”

“You trying to tell us how to raise our child now?” The woman stomped towards her, fuming. “You rude bitch!”

Mikan squeaked, losing her footing and falling to the ground. Tears already stung her eyes and she shielded her face with her arms. This woman was going to punch her, kick her, spit in her face. _She’s going to hurt me, everyone will stare, this mother is going to beat me up in front of her child. She’s going to hurt me, she’s going to kill me, I’d deserve it, no one cares about me_ _—_

“Oh HELL no. I’m stopping this right now.”

Heels clicked on the pavement and then softened on the grass until a tall figure stood protectively in front of Mikan. She released the breath in her lungs and pretended it didn’t sound like a sob.

_Junko’s here. I was never in danger. I’m okay._

“While you two were off having a quickie in an outhouse, your child was out here getting bullied.” Junko gestured her way. “Mikan here stopped that, not either of you. So you should be thanking her and begging for her forgiveness if you know what’s good for you.”

“Excuse me? Is that a threat?” The mother looked ready to breathe fire any moment. “How dare you talk to an adult like that, you little slut. Mind your manners!”

“Am I seriously the only one around here who knows how to insult someone? _Really_?” Junko groaned, checking her nails. “Arguing is no fun if your trash talk is that weak. C’mon, let me _feel_ it. If you’re out there terrorizing supermarkets and calling retail workers ‘useless millennial dropouts’ over your own collection of expired coupons I know you can call me something more creative than a slut.”

“Shut up! Kids are supposed to listen to adults!”

Mikan flinched, tears leaking from her eyes. She hated when people yelled. Why did people have to yell? Why did any of this have to happen?

She inched closer to Junko instinctively, leaning against her leg. Junko didn’t acknowledge her verbally but familiar fingers soon rubbed at her scalp and that sensation was the only thing keeping Mikan from a full breakdown.

“You think I listen to anyone but myself?” Junko laughed. “No one else is worth listening to! Especially not you two shithags.” Junko waved at the boy who glanced up, looking overwhelmed by her but not afraid. Mikan couldn’t see Junko’s toothy grin but she could sense it. “Hey, kid. Run away the first chance you get, yeah? These two losers suck at parenting.”

“You brat!” The mother was practically foaming at the mouth. If they weren’t in a public area Mikan worried she might have tried to hurt Junko, and with Mukuro back at the school that encounter wouldn’t end pleasantly. “Clearly your parents didn’t do a good job, but our parenting skills are just fine!”

“On the contrary. You just taught your kid that you won’t be there to save him from people that want to hurt him, and that you’ll blame him and other people for your own mistakes. Some people should never be parents and you two fit that description impeccably well. If people like you keep this up the children will start an uprising, you know. No one to blame but yourselves.

“You also made my girlfriend cry,” Junko’s tone dropped so low that Mikan shivered, hiding her face in Junko’s thigh, “which means I’m already coming up with creative ways to decorate this park with your guts. So unless you want your child to become an orphan I advise getting your sweaty, wrinkly, ‘should’ve used Plan B’ ass selves the _fuck_ outta my sight.”

The woman looked ready to take a swing at Junko but the man held her back. He looked equally as insulted but seemed to process the jail time they would receive over assaulting a minor. Still, he huffed, keeping a tight hold on his son’s arm as he guided them both away from the park.

“Please invite me to your wedding!” the boy called back.

The mention of that topic did make Mikan’s heart skip a beat, but she was too shaken up from what happened to respond. She just wanted to help a child. She knew better than anyone what it was like being a victim of bullying, and she knew how to help someone who was hurt. Mikan knew she was clumsy, knew she was disgusting, knew most people didn’t want her around, but... why did they have to yell at her like that? Why were they so mean when she was only trying to help?

And even worse, why couldn’t she stand up for herself yet? After she had just told the boy she was capable of doing so? How many times had Junko come to her rescue by now?

As if sensing her thoughts, Junko knelt down so they were at eye level.

“Are you okay, Mikan?” she asked, her voice nothing like the harsh, mocking resonance it was before. Now it was soft like flower petals, and the fingers that reached out to thread through Mikan’s hair were equally as soothing.

“I-I’m not getting any better at this, a-am I?” Mikan whispered. She tried to focus on Junko’s touch but found she couldn’t meet her eyes. She felt so pathetic. “I-I let them walk a-all over me.”

Junko shook her head, moving closer until their foreheads touched and Mikan had no choice but to anxiously look at her. “You stood up for yourself at the beginning and you never apologized for doing what you thought was right. You stood up to me before that, too. Don’t apologize, it was badass. Maybe you don’t see how far you’ve come, but I do.” Her gaze softened and Junko almost looked like a different person; a version of herself that Mikan selfishly wished no one else would ever see. “I’m proud of you, Mikan.”

Mikan bit her lip, feeling a tear fall. Junko wiped it away along with the other strays that escaped, never laughing, never judging, and each swipe from her finger forged a wave of something overwhelmingly powerful and unidentifiable that crashed over Mikan.

She belonged in Junko’s arms. She never wanted to be anywhere else. She didn’t know what she did to deserve Junko walking into her life, strutting like a goddess, but she was going to try her best to ensure Junko knew how much she appreciated her.

Mikan cupped Junko’s cheeks and pulled her into a kiss. Junko made a surprised noise, one Mikan always loved hearing, and Mikan pressed closer, tugging Junko into her lap. Then Junko’s lips were firm against hers, sweet and hot and dominating, and she pushed into Mikan’s hold until their bodies slowly leaned back and Mikan was flat on the grass. Junko’s body slid on top of hers, breasts full against her own and Mikan shivered, her heart pounding with such ferocity as if it could burst from her chest any moment. She felt Junko smile into the kiss before she sucked on her top lip and Mikan gasped; moaning softly from the scrape of teeth; quivering as sharp nails traced her jaw.

Mikan’s trembling hands left Junko’s warm cheeks to wrap around her neck, pulling her even closer. She didn’t want any space between them. She yearned to feel all of Junko; of everything Junko was willing to offer. Her warmth, her touch, her love, she needed it all. She needed it to feel alive. Junko was everything to her. She would love her with everything she had. She would give everything she was to Junko.

Mikan loved her so much. Junko made her so happy. Mikan... deserved to be happy. Junko taught her that.

Did she make Junko happy, too?

When they pulled away Mikan was out of breath, and Junko’s chest heaving against hers was enough to make her lightheaded.

“Who knew my little nurse was such an exhibitionist,” Junko said, licking her lips. Icy pools gleamed with mischief. “If I knew you were into having an audience I would have made out with you outside the changing rooms, too.”

Mikan’s ears burned and she hid her face in her hands; as soon as Junko’s lips were on hers the knowledge that they were still in public flew right out of her mind. Junko laughed, but not unkindly, shifting her weight off of Mikan which was both relieving and disappointing. Junko pulled her up by the shoulders so they were both sitting on the grass. Their bare legs would definitely sport green stains afterwards but it didn’t seem like Junko minded.

Junko looked so beautiful sitting there with rosy cheeks and a grin that stretched ear to ear. Mikan... Mikan caused that, didn’t she? Junko was hard to read most of the time but she looked so happy right now.

If time froze right then Mikan wouldn’t mind. She didn’t want to die anymore but if this were to be her last moment, if Junko’s smiling face was the last thing she got to see, she wouldn’t complain. She couldn’t think of a better final sight.

“I think I’m going to visit my parents tonight,” Mikan said with a smile, the idea coming to her just as suddenly as she had said it.

Junko pouted, her shoulders drooping. “ _That’s_ what’s making you so happy? Not that bombass kiss we just had? I feel so underappreciated.” She dramatically pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and looked off into the distance. “Oh, the despair!”

Mikan giggled, Junko’s antics calming her down as always, and reached out to hold Junko’s hand. “You make me happy. That’s why I want to visit them. I just... want them to see how much happier I am now.”

Junko looked more serious than before, her gaze sharp and analytical. “You don’t owe them shit. You know that, right?”

“I-I know. But I want to have hope that they’ll be happy for me. Parents want their kids to be happy, right?”

Junko looked away. “In theory.”

Not all parents were like the ones from earlier, right? Mikan’s were never kind to her, but surely they would come around once seeing how much their daughter had changed.

It was silent for a moment and Junko laced their fingers together.

“Do you want me to go with you?” she asked. She almost sounded worried. Junko never sounded worried about anything.

But Mikan shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I know you’re often busy at night.”

“I can make time.”

There was no hesitation in that sentence and Mikan’s heart skipped a beat.

And as much as Mikan appreciated it, she was determined to prove herself. “I have to be able to do some things on my own.” She squeezed Junko’s hand. “If the relationship between me and my parents improves then I’ll introduce you, okay?”

Junko studied her for a long moment, seemingly lost in her own world. Mikan couldn’t even begin to guess what she was thinking and probably wouldn’t get an answer even if she asked. So she waited patiently for Junko to sort out her thoughts, hoping Junko was okay with her decision.

Blue eyes blinked and finally Junko was back, looking appeased.

“They’d have to be proud of you if they see a bombshell like me on your arm,” Junko boasted, thrusting out her chest. Mikan tried not to look but _ah_ , no, she looked, there was no avoiding it. Junko caught her and winked, cackling when Mikan’s blush returned full force.

Mikan fell for that every time, and she was embarrassed every time, but it was worth it to hear Junko laugh so freely.

“Alright, enough about boomers,” Junko said, pulling Mikan to her feet. She straightened Mikan’s tangled hair and wore an infectious smile. “We’re still on a date, and since I’m a romantic I’m gonna take your fine ass to the grossest fast food place we can find. I’d stab a bitch for an iced coffee.”

* * *

“And that’s how me and Mikan have a son now.”

“You two certainly had an interesting afternoon.”

Junko hummed from her seat at the desk in their dorm room, removing her pigtails and running her fingers through her thick hair. “If he’s still alive when my new world begins I’ll kidnap him for Mikan. I’m sure she’d like that.”

“You’re willing to do a lot of things for her you’d never do otherwise, it seems.”

Junko’s eyebrow twitched, turning to look at Mukuro who sat on her bed doing their homework. Which was completely unnecessary, of course—Hope’s Peak wouldn’t be a functional school much longer—but she loved forcing Mukuro to do things that mattered just as little as Mukuro herself did.

Yet for someone who mattered so little, sometimes she had a _very_ big mouth.

“Be careful, _sister dear_ ,” Junko growled, reaching into a drawer, “that sounded quite accusatory. You saying I’ve gone soft?”

Junko threw a sewing needle in Mukuro’s direction but she caught it without looking up from her notes.

“No,” Mukuro said, placing the needle beside her like nothing happened. “Just that you don’t want to lose her.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

With a sigh, Mukuro closed their notebooks and looked up with a firm expression. “We need to test her.”

Junko groaned, slumping across the chair. “Do you hate her that much? I know she takes up a lot of my time, but _Christ_ , get over yourself and your sister complex.”

Mukuro blushed but otherwise her expression remained the same. “Quite the opposite. I just want to make sure she’s ready. For your sake, Junko.”

“Why bother? I told you before she’ll be on board with the plan. Is your memory that fucking bad?”

“She’ll agree because she loves you, I know. But just because she agrees now doesn’t mean she won’t defect later. And just because she agrees doesn’t mean she’ll be able to adapt and survive. Why bother ensuring her loyalty if she simply goes insane on the first day?”

“You...” Junko paused because for once Mukuro actually said something intelligent. Junko hadn’t considered all that before. If Mikan lost her mind then everything Junko had done, all the time they had spent together, including the date they went on today... it would be for nothing. It would be despair inducing.

Wait.

Losing Mikan would be despair inducing? No, that couldn’t be right. There... there had to be something that would bring her more despair than that. There had to be another option.

She pretended she never thought of it.

“You actually have a point,” Junko said, forcing her mind to wipe for now. “Okay then. Question is, how do we test her?”

“I’ll leave that decision up to you,” Mukuro said. “You’re much smarter than I am.”

“Duh. Your tiny ass brain could never make a plan even half as good as mine.” Junko cackled but suddenly stopped, rubbing her chin in thought. “This will be tricky, though. Mikan’s fragile. What could I do to prepare her for the new world that won’t scare her away, either...”

It was quiet for a moment as Junko thought.

Then a frantic knock on the door had Junko on high alert. Her gaze flew to Mukuro who was already cocking her gun, aiming it towards the door. Neither of them expected visitors tonight.

Mukuro silently approached the door and Junko reached under her pillow for a knife, just in case. They locked eyes and Mukuro waited for her orders. Junko pressed herself against the wall furthest from the door and nodded. Mukuro nodded back before grabbing the handle and swinging open the door, using her body to block the doorway and shield Junko from any incoming attack.

Junko heard a squeak and nothing else.

“Oh,” Mukuro sighed. “It’s just you.”

Mukuro’s body language relaxed and she threw her gun back on her bed. Junko caught sight of ratty purple hair over Mukuro’s shoulder.

“Oh, hey Mikan!” Junko greeted, hiding her knife and giving an exaggerated wave. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight. Thought you were visiting the boomers.”

Mukuro moved to sit on her bed and only then did Junko get a good look at Mikan’s appearance. Her sundress from earlier was torn in several places and her hair was an unkempt mess. Bruises painted her arms and face and it looked like she had been crying.

Such despair in her expression. It was beautiful, and such a rare look for Mikan. Even last month when she was prepared to kill herself she didn’t have a look of despair like that.

She envied her. What Junko wouldn’t give—for the most part—to feel such raw despair.

“Damn Mikan,” Junko chuckled, “you almost look as bad as Mukuro does daily. What happened?”

Someone must have bullied her again. It didn’t happen as often as it used to, but some students still liked to use her as their personal punching bag. Junko didn’t like it, but she knew she couldn’t save Mikan every time.

The torn clothes were unusual, though. Junko tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling building in her stomach the longer she stared.

“I... I t-thought if my parents saw how h-happy I’ve become, maybe they’d be happy to see me. M-maybe they’d f-finally love me.” Mikan sobbed, and it was a more feral sob than Junko normally heard from her. “But... my d-dad, he... and my m-mom...”

Junko felt her heart in her throat and she was at Mikan’s side in an instant, pulling her in the dorm room and locking the door behind her. Her eyes roamed Mikan’s form now that she was closer, taking note of her bloodshot eyes and the dried tearstains on her cheeks being overlapped with fresh rivers. Junko squeezed Mikan’s shoulders; she was trembling like an earthquake.

“What did they do to you?” Junko asked. The question felt like acid on her tongue.

“T-they...” Mikan hiccupped. “T-the... t-t-they...”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Don’t force yourself.” Junko pet Mikan’s hair, attempting to fix the wild strands that she already knew couldn’t be fixed without a shower. There was dirt and dried blood in Mikan’s hair.

There was... something else dried in there too, and that better not be what Junko thought it was.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Junko offered, keeping her voice gentle. Startling Mikan right now was the last thing she wanted. “How does a bath sound?”

Junko thought it was a reasonable suggestion but Mikan seemed horrified at the very thought, immediately crying out and using her arms to cover herself. Like she didn’t want to take her ruined clothes off.

Like there was something underneath she didn’t want Junko to see.

“Mikan.” Junko’s voice was firmer than before. She didn’t want to scare Mikan but this unfamiliar feeling that had to be fear bubbling inside her was something she didn’t know how to deal with. She needed answers. She needed them now. “What did they do to you?”

Mikan trembled so violently Junko heard her teeth clatter. It barely looked like she could stand.

“I-I just... w-wanted them to love me.” Mikan finally looked at her. She looked scared; heartbroken; guilty. “J-Junko... I w-wanted to be yours. I’m so s-sorry... p-please for-forgive me...”

Something inside Junko—

— ** _snapped_**.

She wasn’t sure what it was. She wasn’t really sure about anything right now. She wanted to hurt something. Maybe herself. She wanted to kill someone. She wanted to bury her claws in someone’s jugular and _tear_.

She wanted to comfort Mikan.

Junko held her tight, pressing Mikan’s face into her chest. Mikan froze, as if afraid Junko was going to hurt her, as if what happened to her earlier was going to be repeated, and it took a few more anxious seconds before she buried herself into Junko, gripping onto her shirt for dear life. Mikan’s legs finally collapsed and both of them sank to the floor. Junko embraced her the whole time, wrapping her arms and her legs around Mikan to keep her secure; to let her know nothing was going to hurt her here.

“What did I tell you about apologizing when you didn’t do anything wrong?” Junko pet Mikan’s hair, ignoring what was in it, just hoping it would help her calm down. “And you _didn’t_ do anything wrong, understand?”

Mikan didn’t agree or disagree. Maybe she couldn’t right now. She just cried harder, her tears like hot coals at Junko’s neck.

It didn’t actually cause physical pain. So why was Junko hurting? Why did it feel like she was being crushed?

“I’m here,” Junko whispered, echoing the words that helped Mikan relax that morning. “You’re okay.”

They didn’t work this time. Not for either of them.

This feeling... this couldn’t be despair. This sick, twisted feeling held no satisfaction. No accomplishment.

This was fury.

Junko met Mukuro’s gaze over Mikan’s shoulder. She wouldn’t need to speak; she couldn’t even if she wanted to. That one look would tell Mukuro everything she needed to know.

Mukuro tucked a handgun under the back of her shirt, packed up a bag, and left the dorms.

Junko let out a breath, trying to calm down. There was nothing to worry about. This was going to be fixed overnight. Yet she felt Mikan’s tears on her skin when Mikan shouldn’t have had a reason to cry tonight, so there was no way she could calm down.

So she forced her mind away from the present to the not so distant future.

This world would soon be hers and, _lucky me_ , Junko thought with a twisted smile as she stroked Mikan’s hair, she already had two volunteers she could teach the fundamentals of true despair.

They would never hurt Mikan again. No one would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this! I'm planning to write a 3rd chapter as well and then that should be it for this fic (I do love Junko and Mikan's relationship in this tho so maybe I'll do more with it). Have a good day! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “W-what do you want me to do?”
> 
> Junko smiled, something sinister and real beneath its forced tightness, and gently caressed the fading bruise on Mikan’s cheek.
> 
> “I want you to kill your parents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is finally here! It was very challenging to write but I feel like it fully established Mikan's character development and finished the little arc I was trying to tell here!
> 
> Warning: I bumped the rating up to M because of this chapter just in case. It contains multiple references of non-con, includes torture, and minor sexual themes.

Mikan didn’t remember entering the showers. There had been a hand in hers, guiding, reassuring, then soft words—a promise—and now she was alone with the hot water and steam.

Droplets clung to her lashes, blurring her vision as she looked down at herself. Purple splotches and angry red marks speckled her bare body, like a canvas of uncomplimentary paints that swirled together and dirtied the whole picture.

Dirty. Dirty. She was so _dirty_.

She scrubbed her skin raw but she was still so dirty; the events of earlier that night soaked deep down to places she couldn’t reach but she would tear herself to shreds if it meant she could be clean again.

Her wrists, her neck, her thighs, her mouth, filthy, violated, tarnished, it hurt, everything hurt, _Dad why are you doing this, Mom why are you helping, I said I was sorry, why won’t you forgive me?_

Mikan whimpered and sank to the ground, covering her ears, her eyes, then her whole face, tucking her head into her arms. Her shivers ran bone deep despite the thick heat surrounding her and she felt so dry, then too wet, way too wet, and her stomach churned, bile threatening to soar up her throat. She swallowed it down but it was so hard to swallow; so hard to breathe. Everything she did, every sensation she felt, was a reminder of what happened and she didn’t want to be in this body anymore.

The hot spray was like lava on her back, burning and consuming the agitated skin. Maybe if she turned it even hotter the flesh would melt right off her bones and she would be purified.

Earlier that day had been so wonderful, filled to the brim with love and tenderness, with clever blue eyes and soft blonde hair and warm pink lips, and the last thing Mikan had wanted was to die, and now there was nothing she wanted more.

The door to the shower room squeaked.

“Mikan?” called out a voice. “I got some clothes from your dorm. I’ll leave your pyjamas with your towel, okay?”

Junko. Oh, Junko. How would Junko feel if she knew Mikan was becoming a husk again?

Junko would leave her. She made that clear before they even got together.

Mikan hugged herself tighter, biting back a sob. She had been getting ahead of herself. Why would Junko want to be with someone dirtied like she was? Mikan had already been disgusting before, but now? Junko deserved better. Mikan had no right to cry if Junko abandoned her.

Footsteps approached the closed curtain of Mikan’s stall. “Mikan? Are you okay in there?”

Maybe Junko really did care. That’s what Mukuro had told her. Junko was here to save her just like before; just like always.

She had wanted to give everything she was to Junko. Now she could never do that, could she? She was soiled. But maybe... maybe Junko could scrub the dirtiness away. Maybe Junko could reach the places she couldn’t.

Junko would help. Junko would understand. Junko always understood.

Stumbling to her feet and nearly slipping on the wet floor, Mikan flung open the curtain. Steam spilled from Mikan’s space and spiraled around Junko but never touched her, as if it weren’t allowed; like a barrier protected her beloved from being tainted. Junko’s eyes widened and roamed Mikan’s form but her gaze was soft, worried, focusing on areas that were discoloured, and there were no ill-intentions behind that look. Mikan would have recognized if there were after seeing that look from someone else not too long ago.

Then Junko looked away, using a hand to cover her eyes. Was she embarrassed? That couldn’t be it.

“Here’s your towel,” Junko said, offering it with her free hand.

Mikan ignored her, grabbing the hand Junko was using to block her vision and forcing Junko to look at her, to see her; to see everything she had become.

“Mikan?”

She sounded confused and unsure. Mikan loved the sound of Junko’s voice but didn’t like how it sounded just then. _Please don’t sound like that. Sound confident. Sound like my hero. I need my hero to save me right now._

“J-Junko, please. You’re always able to make my b-bad thoughts go away. You can do that for me this time too, c-can’t you?” Mikan guided Junko’s hand to the junction of her thighs. She bit her lip, pressing against Junko’s palm. “ _Ah_ —please m-make me clean again. Make me f-forget everything except _you_.”

Junko’s eyes swam with an emotion Mikan didn’t recognize and then Junko shook her head, pulling her hand back. “Not like this.”

Mikan almost felt angry, betrayed, but she knew that wasn’t fair, knew she wasn’t thinking clearly, and then her sadness and fear leaked from her eyes. “I-I knew you wouldn’t want me anymore. Who could ever want me? I’m so s-sorry, I know I’m horrible, p-please forgive me.”

A sigh. “Mikan.”

She ducked her head and wiped at her eyes but her tears wouldn’t stop. Each slam of her heart against her ribs made breathing and speaking harder and she hated herself, she was so disgusting, but she wanted Junko to hear her; to acknowledge her despite her shortcomings. “I love you,” Mikan sobbed, “p-please don’t l-leave me...”

“ _Mikan_.”

Mikan gasped, looking up with blurry eyes.

“Did you wash your hair?” Junko asked. Mikan shook her head mechanically, practically feeling the gears grind in her neck. “Can I wash it for you?”

Junko never _asked_ if she could do anything with her hair before—she just did it, confident in what she was doing and confident Mikan would enjoy it.

Was she worried Mikan wouldn’t enjoy it this time?

Junko gestured for Mikan to step back into the shower and Junko was one step behind her, closing the curtain. Mikan gasped, stepping in front of the spray but Junko’s clothes were already soaked and clinging to her body like a second skin.

“J-Junko, your outfit...”

She shrugged, blonde hair sticking to her shoulders and quickly darkening. “I was completely down to jump in that fountain earlier. At least this water is warm.” Junko moved behind Mikan, squirting some shampoo into her palm. “I’m going to touch your hair now.” A beat of silence. “Is that okay?”

Mikan nodded, murmured her consent out loud when Junko hadn’t made any move to touch her, but felt her brow furrow in confusion. She had been ready and willing to let Junko fuck her, to control and dominate her, and despite that Junko was asking for permission to touch her hair? Something she already did daily? Even warning her that the touch was coming?

Mikan hated that Junko felt the need to treat her so carefully, as if she were a glass doll that would shatter from any harsher pressure, and yet... it felt nice that she was being so considerate. Junko was so cruel to everyone else but she had always been so kind to Mikan. Junko was loud and insensitive and sometimes said some really mean things, but she always knew when to soften her voice around Mikan; always knew what Mikan needed to hear; always knew when Mikan needed to be in her arms.

Why... why was that?

Mikan had a thought and, as red nails spread shampoo across her scalp, she allowed herself to entertain it for only a moment.

Some people had trouble saying they loved someone out loud. Maybe they didn’t know how to say it. Maybe they struggled expressing their emotions. Maybe they expressed their love in other ways instead.

Maybe Mikan was getting ahead of herself again, maybe was setting herself up for despair, but every stroke of Junko’s fingers through her hair felt like love, and that birthed a small, hidden smile.

* * *

A week had passed and Mikan only felt a little better than before but she owed every ounce of that mental improvement to Junko.

She never let Mikan be alone. She walked her to and from class. She ate with her, slept with her, even showered with her sometimes, too. And whenever she had to be somewhere else she made sure Mukuro didn’t leave Mikan’s side.

Mikan didn’t want to be so clingy—Junko even said that she noticed and was proud of the improvement she had made on herself concerning her worth and self-confidence—but after what happened she was afraid of her own shadow. If someone snuck up behind her she would break down. Even if Junko touched her without announcing her presence first Mikan would have a panic attack.

She hated herself for it. She had been making such good progress with herself and now she was some soiled, worthless thing. She still didn’t know why Junko wanted to be with someone dirty like her.

Junko never said out loud how she felt so Mikan had to trust in the way Junko treated her. How she would ask before holding her, kissing her, brushing her hair. How she would try to make Mikan laugh even when it didn’t work. How she would let Mikan cry in her arms even when her tears ruined her designer clothes.

She knew Junko was the farthest thing from a selfless person so she had to be gaining something from this; it all had to mean something to her. And even if it didn’t, it meant something to Mikan.

Mikan loved her so much. She wouldn’t be alive, wouldn’t be a person, without Junko. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her.

That was the last thought on Mikan’s mind when Junko invited her to have lunch on the roof that afternoon.

“Listen to this crazy shit Mikan,” Junko said as they ascended the stairs, heels clicking with each step. “Some asshole—can I hold your hand?” Mikan’s eyes widened, looking down at the palm Junko offered. Junko wore that shit-eating grin Mikan had come to love but there was some emotion hidden in those eyes that didn’t match the smile; an emotion that Mikan had never seen on Junko before a week ago. Mikan was both sad and flattered and wanted to hold Junko’s hand more than anything, and Junko’s smile softened when Mikan slipped her hand into hers. Junko laced their fingers together and continued, “Some asshole thought he could cut ahead of me in line to get these lunches but, hell the fuck no, my bombass nails can cut better than he can, so I—”

She kept ranting but Mikan was still focused on how Junko asked to hold her hand. How Junko’s grip was warm and reassuring, but loose enough that Mikan could pull away if she wanted. How those long, crimson nails, threatening to anyone else, gently traversed her knuckles.

Those nails could be sharp, could cut, could effortlessly apply a coat of blood, but instead they drew invisible pictures on Mikan’s skin. They traced ticklish words of affection, healed the phantom pain from scars, memorized every bump and curve of Mikan’s body. They scratched away every filthy layer of skin until a new, polished version of Mikan emerged, waiting to be dirtied again.

Mikan wanted to be clean.

They arrived to the roof and Mikan was caught in the memory of the last time she was up here with the cold, metal railing in her grip, fully ready to plummet. And when she had turned around there was Junko, her guardian angel, her source of hope, and everything in her life was suddenly better. She had found her reason to live. She had finally found someone who cared, even if that person didn’t say it.

Junko sat on a bench far from the railing and patted the spot next to her. Mikan sat in the offered spot, relieved to be off her feet, watching as Junko handed her one of the lunches she brought and dug into her own.

“Damn, this is the bomb dot com,” Junko said, giving an exaggerated moan after a few more bites. “The orgasm in my mouth right now is probably the closest that perverted cook will ever get to giving a girl a real one. At least he’s good for something. Seriously Mikan, try this shit,” Junko tapped on Mikan’s lunchbox with her chopsticks, “it’ll change your life.”

Her life’s been changed enough lately, both for the good and the bad, but if Junko wanted her to try it then she would.

Mikan nibbled at a piece of meat and it was really good; the flavour was exquisite without ever being too overwhelming. But she felt numb and didn’t really have the energy to truly appreciate the food or to eat it. For the past week, no matter how hungry she was, even eating felt like too much. She could barely keep anything down with all the anxiety attacks. Both mentally and physically she was drained. Broken. Worthless.

Dirty.

“You haven’t been eating much lately.”

So Junko had noticed. Mikan kind of hoped that she hadn’t because she didn’t know how to explain herself.

Why bother eating?

That was on the tip of Mikan’s tongue but she knew better than to say it. Junko wouldn’t like hearing that and Mikan knew she shouldn’t be thinking like that. She didn’t want to die, and she did want to eat.

It was just... really hard. Everything was so hard right now.

“I don’t care how skinny or fat you are, just don’t go fainting on me.” Junko swallowed the food in her mouth and gestured towards the roof’s entrance with a wave of her arm. “I’d carry you down the stairs if that happened but I’d rather walk down holding your hand.”

Junko was a master at somehow sliding sweetness into what would otherwise be harsh words. The bluntness of her tone cloaked how much care and worry truly resided beneath, but since that time at the showers Mikan had improved at picking apart Junko’s words.

Junko hid her feelings, she probably always would, but now Mikan knew where to look.

“What if I fed you?” Junko offered. It was said lightheartedly but Mikan could tell she was being serious. “That’s romantic, isn’t it? And we both know I’m the best at romantic shit.”

She really wasn’t. That’s what most people would say.

But making sure your significant other ate? That was another silent way of saying you loved them, wasn’t it?

Mikan bit her lip, sincerely hoping that was true.

Junko used her chopsticks to raise small portions to Mikan’s mouth. Mikan chewed slowly, not really wanting to swallow, but the way Junko looked at her with such a smile—a relieved one?—was all that mattered, so Mikan ate every bite.

When Mikan finally finished Junko set their lunchboxes aside and stared into the distance.

“Take a good look at this view, Mikan,” Junko said. “What do you see?”

Mikan wasn’t sure if there was something specific Junko wanted her to observe, so she just stated the obvious.

“The sky. Students eating on the field. How peaceful it is.”

“It looks peaceful, doesn’t it?” Junko looked back to her with knowing eyes. “But you don’t feel at peace right now, do you?”

Mikan barely held in her gasp. Sometimes it was frightening how easily Junko could read her.

“I’m... I’m always at peace when I’m with you. You m-make everything better.”

“I’m the closest thing to a goddess this world has but even I can’t make everything better. I can help, but I know inside you’re not at peace, and the only one that can truly change that is you.”

Mikan closed her eyes and buried her face in Junko’s shoulder. “I... don’t know how.”

This world kept on spinning, kept on pretending it wasn’t horrible, even after Mikan suffered like she did. This world pretended to be a peaceful place while Mikan was at war with herself.

How could Mikan be hurting like this if this world was truly peaceful? How could a world be peaceful when abusers roamed free and victims either took their lives or wanted to so badly they couldn’t call their existence living?

It was as if Junko read her mind.

“Picture this, Mikan,” Junko began, and Mikan opened her eyes just enough to see how bright and inspired Junko’s face looked as she stared out at the students beneath them, “a world where everyone is as enlightened as you and me. There’d be no bullies anymore, just people driven solely by hope and despair. It would be a world where people like us can thrive, and all the people that hurt you would get what they deserve. I can make that world a reality.” Junko paused for a moment. “I could do it without you, but I wanna know if this is something you’d fight for.”

Mikan’s response was instantaneous and muffled against Junko’s shoulder as she reached out to hold Junko’s hand. “I’d do anything for you.”

“I know.” Junko’s thumb caressed her own. “But I need to know if this is something _you_ would want, regardless how I feel about it.”

“Would you want me in this world of yours?”

Junko shifted just enough so their eyes could meet and there were so many emotions cracking through those chunks of ice but Mikan couldn’t pinpoint a single one.

“Only if you wanted to be there.”

Mikan bit her lip. Her heart was suddenly pounding for some reason.

“I-I can’t say for sure. It sounds like a lot to take in and it’s pretty unbelievable—no offence!” Mikan waited for a tense moment to see if Junko would get mad at her, but of course she didn’t. Mikan should know better by now. With a deep, calming breath, Mikan continued, “Making a new world for people like us? One where bullies get what they deserve? It sounds... wonderful Junko, it really does, and that paradise with you sounds amazing, but I’m not sure if I have what it takes for a world like that.”

Junko didn’t look surprised by her answer. “If you can’t decide just from the thought of that world alone, then how about a test.”

“A test?”

“It would prove if you have what it takes to stand by my side in my new world. It’s okay if you can’t do it, but my new world will come to fruition whether or not you can survive in it,” Junko squeezed her hand, “and I’d prefer to have you with me when it happens.”

Junko seemed serious about all this. No matter how farfetched it sounded to Mikan, Junko sounded completely confident that things were going to play out as she said they would. Mikan didn’t know what that meant, had no idea what Junko’s envisioned world would truly be like or how their lives would change because of it, but in the end that didn’t really matter, did it?

Mikan decided a long time ago that she would do anything to stay by Junko’s side. Her life felt worthless without her, so if Junko knew a way to prepare Mikan for whatever harsh or startling reality this new world encompassed, Mikan was all ears.

“W-what do you want me to do?”

Junko smiled, something sinister and real beneath its forced tightness, and gently caressed the fading bruise on Mikan’s cheek.

“I want you to kill your parents.”

* * *

_Wrists pinned down._

_Fists against her face, chest, stomach._

_Hair torn and pulled._

_Nails in her throat._

_Her dress ripped apart._

_Something else ripped apart, too._

_Tears streamed down her cheeks and everything hurt and she screamed, and screamed, and_ _—_

Mikan gasped awake, barely holding in a scream. She pressed a hand tight to her mouth to stifle her sobs but the rapid rise and fall of her chest was heavy and overwhelming and _I can still feel their hands and their nails and their teeth and_ _—_

She trembled, looking beside her to Junko who was fast asleep. She desperately wanted Junko to hold her, comfort her, make all the bad memories go away.

_Junko doesn’t like it when I wake her up, she’ll get mad at me, she’ll leave me, she’ll_ _—_

“Are you okay?”

The question was a mere whisper but Mikan practically jumped out of her skin all the same. She rolled over to see Mukuro staring at her in the darkness. Mikan’s cheeks felt wet and if so, then Mukuro already got the answer to her question.

So there was no point in lying. “No.”

Another question came just as quietly. “Anything I can do?”

Mikan’s heart clenched. “No.”

“Understood. I’m here if you need me.”

Mukuro really cared, didn’t she? She was more open about her feelings than Junko was, but still fairly mysterious about them. But Mukuro did make it clear last time they spoke that she would protect and support Mikan if her assistance was needed, and right now...

Well, Mikan didn’t even know where to begin, but trying to talk to Mukuro might help her figure out what to say to Junko later.

Mikan took a deep breath, moving the covers off herself and sitting up. “C-can I sit next to you for a bit?”

Mukuro mirrored her movements. “Would you rather I come over there so you can stay close to Junko?”

Mikan said nothing, moving and sitting next to Mukuro. It was quiet in the room other than Junko’s soft snores and Mikan fidgeted, wringing her hands together. Mukuro was clearly waiting for her to say her piece and was so polite she’d probably sit there for hours if need be.

“S-she wants me to... kill my parents,” Mikan finally said. The anxious knot in her stomach only tightened from speaking the words aloud.

“Yes.”

That word was calm and measured. Mukuro had known.

“Do you want me to do that?” Mikan asked.

“I want what Junko wants.”

That wasn’t surprising but it didn’t help Mikan sort out her feelings any. Maybe if she tried a different approach.

“Have you killed before?”

“I’m a soldier.”

Of course. Stupid question. Mikan always asked stupid questions.

“How does it feel? To k-kill someone, I mean.”

“I don’t feel anything. I don’t take pleasure from it but I don’t feel remorse either.” Mukuro held her gaze. “If you think you won’t feel anything from killing your parents though, don’t do it. Junko wants you to feel something. Doesn’t matter if it’s pleasure or despair, or even both. If you don’t kill them Junko will, and know she will take great pleasure in doing so.” Mukuro looked back at Junko. “The only reason she didn’t kill them that night is because she wants you to kill them more.”

There was so much to soak in from that yet Mikan felt even more confused than before. Junko had been protective of her since that night, that much was obvious, but Mukuro made it seem as if...

“Does Junko... blame herself for what happened to me?”

Mukuro was silent for a moment, seeming to struggle with a reply.

“She wouldn’t admit it if you asked.” Mukuro sighed. “She probably doesn’t even realize it herself.”

So it was true. Junko had offered to go with Mikan that night and was really adamant about doing so, but Mikan denied her. Mikan wanted to prove she could face her parents on her own.

It wasn’t Junko’s fault. Of course it wasn’t. Mikan could only blame herself.

“I don’t know if I can do what Junko wants.” Mikan released a shaky breath, squeezing her hands together. “I don’t know if I could even face my parents right now.”

Every time she closed her eyes she saw their faces; heard their yells; felt them touching her. She didn’t know how she would react actually seeing them in front of her. Knowing herself, she would panic. Scream. Cry. It would be horrible and pathetic and Junko would be so disappointed.

She didn’t want to let Junko down, but how was she supposed to do this?

“I can’t say that I understand how you feel,” Mukuro said, looking back at her again, “but don’t think we’d make you face them alone. This is your choice, and if you do decide to do this, Junko and I will be there to support you.”

“Is it really my choice if they’re going to die either way?”

“It’s not about them dying. It’s about who you are and what you’re capable of. _That_ is your choice.”

Mikan bit her lip. “Junko will leave me if I don’t do this, won’t she?”

“She won’t leave you,” Mukuro assured. “You’ll leave her.”

Mikan’s head whirled towards Mukuro, eyes wide and caught off guard. Mikan would _never_ leave Junko by choice. How could Mukuro say that?

“I don’t understand...”

Mukuro didn’t bat an eye. “You will.”

Mukuro sounded so sure of that, but how could she be? There had to be something Mukuro knew that she didn’t. Mikan loved Junko dearly. Junko was her entire reason for living. Mikan couldn’t think of anything that would make her willingly leave her.

How would refusing to kill her parents result in her leaving Junko? How could allowing things to remain as they were cause something so terrible to happen? How was Mukuro so sure?

Maybe... maybe it had nothing to do with Mikan herself. Maybe it had to do with Junko. About the way Junko did things. About her plans for a new world. About the way she kept secrets.

After all, Junko never told her anything.

How much about Junko did she really know?

Mikan turned to gaze at her beloved who had been sleeping so soundly a moment ago but was now grumbling in her sleep, her arm reaching around the bed and nails gripping the sheets.

“Is Junko having a nightmare?” Mikan asked.

Mukuro shook her head. “She doesn’t have them when you’re here.”

Oh, okay, that—wait, what? Did that mean Junko had nightmares whenever she wasn’t there? Junko’s never mentioned anything like that.

Junko never sounded scared or regretful of anything. What could she possibly have nightmares about?

“She’s searching for you. She’s been doing that all this time.” Mukuro looked at her and those silver eyes pierced through the darkness like knives. “Will you let her find you?”

Mikan bit her lip, her stomach churning with each of Junko’s groans. She didn’t understand any of this. She still didn’t understand why Junko cared so much. She didn’t understand why Junko felt the need to take such drastic measures; why it was so important to her that Mikan did this.

But Junko was always looking out for her. Always had her best interests in mind. That had to be true in this case, too, even if Mikan didn’t understand how yet.

All that mattered was that Junko truly seemed to want Mikan by her side, and Mikan would follow her anywhere.

Mikan moved towards Junko’s bed and sat on the edge. She reached out and held one of Junko’s searching hands in her own. Mikan entwined their fingers and almost immediately Junko calmed, body going limp and grumbles ceasing. Mikan’s heart swelled, stroking Junko’s hand with her thumb.

If Mikan let Junko find her, could she find Junko, too?

She leaned down and kissed Junko’s forehead softly, cherishing the warmth and quiet intimacy.

When Mikan pulled away and opened her eyes Junko was staring at her; scavenging, analyzing, as if she hadn’t been asleep moments before. Normally this would have made Mikan skittish and stumble out an apology, but everything about this moment was different. Everything between them was about to change and Mikan wasn’t sure if she was ready for that but she had to be, she _would_ be, no matter what.

Junko noticed, Junko knew, and Junko smiled.

* * *

Mikan probably didn’t pay as much attention as she should have when Junko and Mukuro guided her out of the dorms ten minutes later to a secret entranceway heading far below the surface. There was a staircase so long Mikan couldn’t see the end, and without the modest lanterns hanging on the walls it would have been impossible to see anything.

Junko had a bounce to her step on the way down, like a child excited to go to the candy store.

Mikan couldn’t say she felt the same, nor could she say she currently appreciated Junko’s perkiness. What was about to happen wouldn’t be a fun experience in any way, so why was Junko so cheerful about it? Why was Junko looking forward to this so much?

Just another one of those things about Junko that Mikan didn’t understand yet.

Mikan got dizzier the further they descended, both from the never-ending stairs and her internal conflict. She hoped by morning some of her tension would be lifted—and hoped they could take an elevator back up.

“Um, w-where are we going?” Mikan asked, glancing around even though nothing from the environment had changed after several flights of stairs.

Junko giggled. “To see your parents, silly!”

“T-that’s not what I—”

“They’re on the bottom floor. They’re tied up, don’t worry.” Junko glanced her way. “They ain’t touching you ever again.”

Mikan shivered, Junko’s tone unsettling her more than the memories.

Hold on, what did Junko just say? 

“Wait, you k-kidnapped them?” Mikan asked, louder than she meant to.

“Mukuro did, actually.” Junko stopped, hands on her hips as she turned towards Mukuro. “I never thanked you for that, did I?”

Mukuro shook her head, unfazed. “I don’t need a—”

Surprising Mikan even further, Junko hugged Mukuro and laid a sloppy, exaggerated kiss on her cheek.

Mukuro, jaw falling open, quickly became a red, flustered mess. Her hands twitched at her sides, as if she wanted to hug Junko back but didn’t know if she could. She tried to say something but her little stutters made it clear that she didn’t know how to handle this situation, and that this might have been the first time Junko ever showed her physical affection.

And it was over just as quickly as it started.

“ _Ew_ , why did I do that?” Junko whined, backing away from the barely functioning Mukuro and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “Now I got skunk on my lips.” Junko approached Mikan, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Mikan, can I kiss you? Make this despairingly awful taste go away!”

Even when Junko was joking around she was still asking for permission.

It was such a good thing, such a healthy thing, yet Mikan hated it.

No, she didn’t hate it. She hated why it started.

Mikan moved on autopilot to kiss Junko, a quick press of lips before she pulled away. It didn’t feel like their regular kisses and if Mikan was able to recognize that than no doubt Junko did, too.

Sure enough, that blank look in Junko’s eyes said everything, and thus nothing was said, and the three of them continued down the stairway in a silence so thick Mikan swore it was choking her.

Only after her calves began to ache did Mikan finally see the ground, along with a simple looking door with not so simple looking lock mechanisms and a keypad beside it.

“Traditional locks _and_ electronic ones are where it’s at,” Junko said, reading Mikan’s mind for the hundredth time that day. “That way you beat the lock-picking pests _and_ the power outages.”

“Why so m-many?” Mikan asked. “W-what’s in there?”

“You mean other than your parents? To me that’s enough to justify all the locks.”

“But they’re j-just regular people. One lock pr-probably would’ve been enough to contain them, plus you said they’re tied up a-anyway.”

Something in what she said must have triggered Junko because she went rigid, her expression hard and ice cold.

“Regular people don’t do what they did to you. Monsters deserve prison. Monsters deserve execution.” Junko waved her hands, her carefree smile returning. “But that’s way too boring, so I had to spice things up.”

“By bringing me here?” Mikan asked.

Junko’s eyes flashed. “Among other things.”

A shiver shot right up her spine and settled in the base of her skull. Had Junko... already done things to them?

Mikan started shaking. On the other side of this door her parents... her parents were...

In her mind she saw them again, holding her down, hurting her, soiling her, and tears pricked her eyes.

Junko was quick to block the door with her body and completely consume Mikan’s vision. She leaned her forehead against Mikan’s.

“You can still leave, y’know,” Junko said, her voice soft and delicate; a tone only ever directed at Mikan. “You don’t have to go in there.”

Mikan closed that last inch between them and this kiss was much sweeter than the last; much more like the ones they usually shared. It was chaste and shaky thanks to Mikan’s nerves, but it contained every ounce of love and trust she had for Junko.

Junko wasn’t forcing her to do anything. Junko didn’t bring her down here to be cruel. Junko always gave her a choice.

Junko wanted her to be strong, to evolve, and Mikan wanted—no, _needed_ —that too. If Mikan wanted to stand by Junko’s side in her new world, no matter what that world ended up being, then she had to face what was on the other side of that door.

Mikan pulled away but kept her forehead against Junko’s. “Yes I do.”

Junko’s eyes searched hers, dove deep within, probably hunting for any sign that Mikan was forcing herself. She would have found that sign if it were true.

But Mikan was determined. She had to do this.

“Unlock the door Mukuro,” Junko ordered, eyes still on Mikan.

From the corner of her vision Mikan saw Mukuro head towards the door and start typing on the keypad but Mikan’s eyes never left Junko’s. She needed every bit of emotional strength those eyes offered.

“We’ll be with you the whole time, just like I said,” Mukuro reassured, pulling out a key ring. “And I swore I’d protect you with my life, so if you don’t feel safe at any moment just tell me and I’ll fix that.”

“Don’t be silly, Muku-roach,” Junko said, wearing a small smile that Mikan would have kissed had Mukuro not been insulted. “This is Mikan’s time to shine and I believe in her. She’ll finish this, one way or another.”

Leave it to Junko to say something that sounded both heartwarming and ominous at the same time.

The final lock clicked but Mukuro didn’t open the door. Both Mukuro and Junko stared at her and Mikan knew she had to be the one to open it. It had to be her decision.

Mikan gulped, stepping past them and laying a shaky hand on the doorknob.

_Hands on her, hands all over her, too many hands, hands where they shouldn’t be, hands_ _—_

There were two hands on her.

Hands that supported her. Cared for her.

Hands of the only two people that mattered.

Junko and Mukuro’s support gave Mikan the courage to push open the door and step inside.

Immediately she was enveloped by the stale air, coppery and thick like something had been left to rot for days. It was much brighter inside compared to the stairwell, sporting several florescent lights that flickered over many tables and trays covered by white sheets. It was silent other than the slight sway of metal chains and laboured breathing coming from the back wall.

Mikan looked to the source of the noises and couldn’t contain her gasp.

The only thing Mikan had expected to see was her parents—restrained as she had been told—but she hadn’t expected the condition they were in.

Both were naked, unkempt and badly injured, sporting greasy, choppy hair and numerous cuts and bruises all over their malnourished bodies. Chained cuffs around their necks, wrists and ankles kept them pinned close to the stone wall, making sleep, hygiene, and tending to any injuries nigh impossible.

Foremost—more vital than being their daughter—she was a nurse, so her first instinct was to help them.

But after what they did to her... they didn’t deserve her help, did they?

She stepped closer, noticing more grotesque injuries that weren’t clear from further away. Seven of her mother’s fingernails had been torn off. There was a bloody, bandaged stump where her father’s genitalia had been.

Did... Junko do that?

“Oi!” Junko snapped her fingers in their faces a few times, making both adults jump and tremble. “Wakey, wakey, bitchfucks. I know you heard us come in so don’t bother playing dead. Playing won’t be a factor much longer, anyway.”

Neither of them said anything but they stared at Junko in wide-eyed fear, gazes glued to her, like they knew whatever was about to happen would be worse if they didn’t acknowledge her. It was as if they didn’t even notice Mikan was there.

Like she was insignificant to them, even now.

“Since tonight is a monumental occasion how ‘bout I introduce myself properly to you both this time, huh?” Junko did a ridiculous pose, stomping both heels and pointing at herself with a sharp, crimson nail. “Hi, yes, you’ve met me before.” Junko pointed at Mikan’s father, “I’m the one who snapped your dick off like an icicle,” then her mother, “and peeled one of your nails off every night like gushing stickers, but I thought I’d give a more personal introduction now.” Junko fluffed out her pigtails and thrust her chest forward. “I’m Junko Enoshima, your daughter’s hot as hell girlfriend. I would have been your daughter-in-law had you lived long enough for that. Which you won’t, by the way. You’ll be dead soon.” Junko gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Unless Mikan decides to extend your execution. _Oooo_ , wouldn’t that be despair inducing!”

Junko squealed like an excited schoolgirl, bouncing in place. Mikan had never seen Junko look so thrilled about something before. That was... concerning, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t it be?

“You’re crazy! Get away from me!” Her father yelled, spit flying from his mouth. Just the sound of his voice paralyzed Mikan with anxiety, each rough syllable scraping at her eardrums. He looked to Mikan with no regret, no shame; just desperation. “Mikan, don’t just stand there! Get us out of here!”

So he _had_ noticed she was there. He just didn’t care.

“She must have the keys to these restraints on her!” Her mother added, also not seeming to care that her daughter was there other than for using her as a means to escape. “Get them Mikan!”

Mikan stood frozen. She didn’t like hearing her name from them. Junko made her name sound beautiful, sound meaningful, but they made her name sound like something worthy of being tainted.

“Why aren’t you doing anything? We’re your parents! Fucking help us!”

“How can you see us like this and not do anything?”

“Oh she’s gonna do something, just probably not what you want.” Junko stood by her side, staring at her with calm eyes despite the situation. “Mikan, what’s on your mind right now?”

The very first thing on her mind was that she was right; Junko did make her name sound beautiful. The next was how much she loved looking into Junko’s eyes.

Then it was how her parents hurt her and how they were acting like they didn’t even do so. They made it sound like it was her fault they ended up like this.

She would make them acknowledge her and what they did to her.

“If I let you go you’d probably try and h-hurt me again,” Mikan said. “W-what you did to me was horrible and I d-didn’t deserve it, n-no one deserves that, so I—”

“You fucking slut!” Her father snarled, his chains clanging as he tried to grab at her. Mikan flinched, backing away even though there was no way he could reach. “You’ve never been grateful for anything we’ve done for you! You’ve been useless since you were born but we let you live with us anyway! I never should have let you get away that night—”

Mukuro punched him square across the face, the echo from the deafening crack signalling a broken jaw.

“Mukuro!” Junko whined, puffing out her cheeks and folding her arms. “Mikan’s supposed to be the one doing that tonight, not you!”

“I’m sorry Junko,” Mukuro said, not sounding sorry at all, stretching her shoulder in circles after throwing such a massive swing. “I don’t take pleasure from killing. But I took much pleasure from that.”

Mikan wouldn’t admit it out loud, but... she did, too. Her father had that coming for a long time but she never had the courage to do it herself. Not like she could have thrown such a powerful punch, anyway.

She had never been strong enough to do anything on her own.

Her mother was screeching. “Mikan, how can you just let that bitch hit your father? Do something!”

“You useless slut!” her father spat from his lopsided jaw, blood leaking from the corners.

“You’re unworthy of being our child! You never should have been born!”

“You deserve everything we did to you! Everything that everyone has done to you! It should be you chained up down here, not us!”

Those parents from last week had yelled similar things at her. Why did they hate her so much? Was helping someone or showing your happiness such a bad thing? Did it truly warrant all the abuse she endured? The agony she had to push through every day?

Would those parents eventually yell at that boy the way her own yelled at her? Would they make him feel worthless? Make him want to die?

“You’re insane! We should have thrown you out a long time ago!”

“When we get out of this Mikan I swear to god, I’ll—”

Mikan saw white. Then black.

Then R̵̜̈́E̸̙̓̔D̵̫̔̐ͅ.

“ **Huh?** ”

The word was so soft, so faint, but it was haunting, the breeze rattling the shutters before a storm, and both her parents were stunned silent.

“Huh?” Mikan repeated, voice dry and airy, feeling her grip on reality loosen. “Huh, huh, huh, huh?”

“Oooo,” Junko squealed while tugging at her pigtails, “this is gonna be _good_!”

Mikan barely heard her over the tornado in her own mind. Everything she felt, all her memories, everything her parents and bullies ever did to her, the ways she always reacted to the treatment, everything was swirling around and it was so difficult to understand any of it but somehow everything clicked into place. Everything had built and built and built, and finally she had come to terms with all of it.

She deserved better. She always had.

“I didn’t ask to be born,” Mikan said, no trace of a stutter, tunnel vision framing her shaking parents. “I didn’t ask to be shy, or clumsy, or frail, or disgusting. I didn’t ask to be bullied by strangers, by classmates, by either of you. I didn’t ask for any of it. So why can’t you forgive me? I didn’t do anything wrong, so _forgive me already_!” She was screaming now, ripping hair from her roots. “The one thing I really wanted was to be Junko’s. It was the one thing I wanted and you took that from me! You made me want to _die_!”

Mikan panted and then calmed a little, laying her hands flat over her pounding heart. A smile split across her face like a crack bisecting a mirror. “If you could forgive yourselves for doing that to me, then you can forgive me for what I’m about to do to you.”

They were weak. Powerless. Just like Mikan had felt that night.

Mikan had all the power now and she was going to make sure they knew it.

“My panties are _soaked_ ,” Junko moaned, clenching her thighs together.

Mikan faintly heard her as she returned from her crimson haze but Junko’s noises were drowned out by her parents’ desperate pleas.

“Mikan, you can’t do this!” Her father cried, maybe finally realizing what was threatening to happen actually would. “You’re a gentle girl. You’re not a murderer!”

“Oh, such a harsh word!” Junko snapped out of her lust instantly, heels resounding as she approached them with fast strides. “Is that how we’re speaking to each other now? Okay, fine, have it your way.” Junko leaned forward and gripped their jaws, long nails digging harshly into their skin. “You’re both rapists. Pedophiles. Child abusers. Literally trash on legs. You probably think _I’m_ fucked up, but you both clearly take the cake on that one! I’m all sunshine and rainbows compared to you fuckers!”

She shoved both their heads away, leaving bloody, crescent imprints along their jawlines. Something about the pattern of cuts thrilled Mikan to see. Junko’s nails were so gentle with her, traced invisible pictures and soothing words, but with anyone else?

They were tools of death.

“ _Alright_ ,” Junko sang, wiping her hands with a rag before snapping her fingers, “let’s get this soon to be corpse party started!”

Mukuro obeyed immediately, calmly wheeling over a cart stacked with a variety of guns, from pistols to assault rifles to—was that a rocket launcher?

“From my personal collection,” Mukuro said with a small bow to Mikan. “Feel free to use any you see fit.”

“Or, or, or!” Junko chimed in, waltzing to a table covered with a cloth and throwing the cloth away, revealing dozens of knives and other bladed weaponry. “You can use any of these! Shred them to itty bitty pieces!”

Most of them were immaculate, beautiful in a horrific way Mikan would even say, but one of them had dried blood all over it.

And Junko caught her fixating on it. “That one’s special,” she said. “I used that one to chop his dick off. I threw it in the trash where it belonged but those stains make this my personal trophy. But, please, go ahead and add more to it!”

Mikan had never killed anyone before. She never thought she would want or have to, nor possess the ability or willpower to actually pull it off.

But one more look at her quaking parents, the monsters who had bullied her since childhood, who horrifically assaulted her because she told them how happy she’d become last week, solidified her motive and her resolve.

She was a nurse. She became a nurse because her parents never helped her when she got hurt so she had to learn to heal herself. Thanks to her own efforts, her own desires, she learned. Now she could heal people just as well as she could make them hurt.

And she was going to make them hurt.

“I don’t want these,” Mikan said in a voice that didn’t sound like her own. This had to be personal. She wouldn’t accept anything less. “My medical equipment. Needles. Drugs. That’s what I want.”

Junko saluted. “Anything for my girl!”

It seemed Junko planned for this because she pushed out a new cart filled with all the equipment Mikan could have wished for. Syringes of various sizes, bottles of pills and solutions, rubbing alcohol, tranquilizers, defibrillators, tourniquets, scissors, medical tape, bandages, heart rate monitors, even safety equipment.

Mikan had saved so many lives with these tools before, aided Junko with them before, but now... now she was going to...

“My offer from earlier still stands,” Mukuro said, hand hovering over the pistol at her side. “If you feel unsafe or feel like you can’t do this, just say the word and I’ll end this.”

“Mukuro, stop talking. If Mikan backs out I’m gonna be the one to kill them.” Junko approached Mikan’s parents again, looming over them with a glare. “You two asswipes think you know what despair is after a week down here? Trick question; of course you don’t. But you will. And every second will be ecstasy for me.”

Junko cackled, backing up until she was next to Mikan then leaning over to whisper in her ear.

“Stage is yours, Mikan. Put on a show for me.”

Mikan trembled, gripping the fabric at her chest. Her heart was pounding against her ribs. Blood flowed hot like magma in her veins. Junko’s words made a home for themselves within her core, making her whole body vibrate. She bit her lip, barely able to contain everything she was feeling.

This was her moment. All eyes were on her. Just as she liked it. Positive attention, negative attention, it didn’t matter.

She just wanted everyone to look at her.

“Mikan, please!” Her father shouted. “Don’t do this!”

She floated down from her high, fixing him with a blank stare. “Oh, you’re saying _please_ now? It didn’t matter to either of you when I said please.”

“We’ll change! We’ll never hurt you again! Just let us go!”

That was laughable. Mikan was afraid of them before but logic had outweighed any fear. They didn’t scare her anymore.

“In your condition?” Mikan’s eyes scanned their weak, trembling bodies—unfed, fatigued and beaten. “You wouldn’t even make it to the door.”

They continued to grovel, once again behaving as if they weren’t the monsters that hurt her that night; that bullied her since she was born; that instilled in her from childhood that she was too useless and disgusting to ever find a friend like Mukuro or a girlfriend like Junko.

Mikan was a child. She couldn’t have known any better.

She knew better now.

“You’ll forgive me. You have to.” Mikan turned her back on them, walking over to the table of medical equipment. “You have no choice.”

They began screaming, hoarse cries and dry coughs, chains rattling and metal grinding, and Mikan ignored it all. Instead she explored the equipment with her hands, mindful of the sharp edges and relishing the feel of plastic and rubber. She had so many choices. So much room for creativity. She had never looked at these things with intent to hurt before and it was almost overwhelming what she could potentially accomplish with these tools.

She could just get it over with quickly. One lethal injection would do it. Mikan never considered herself to be that artistic after all, nor that bloodthirsty.

But, as Junko would say... that wouldn’t be very fun, would it?

“Junko, Mukuro,” Mikan looked at them, “could you attach a heart rate monitor to both of them?”

She received a chorus of agreement, one voice more high-pitched than the other, and Mikan watched the only two people she cared about set up what would signal the sound of death for the other two people who were supposed to care about her.

Not everyone was meant to be parents. That’s what Junko had said that day.

Junko was right, as always.

Unable to decide on just a few items, Mikan wheeled the whole cart over to her parents.

Mikan donned some latex gloves as if she were about to treat regular patients in the nurse’s office. She would have worn a mask too, but she wanted her smile to be the last thing they saw.

She poured some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball and used it to disinfect her planned injection site on both her parent’s arms. It was unnecessary of course, but she drew comfort and inspiration from familiar rituals.

Her mother thrashed as she did so, causing Mikan to elbow the cart and spill the isopropyl alcohol over the side. The liquid splashed all over her mother’s torn fingernails and the animalistic shriek suddenly ringing in Mikan’s ears was unlike anything she had ever heard.

“Oops, did I spill some?” Mikan’s dry mockery was nearly drowned out by the screaming. She unhurriedly picked up the bottle and put it back on the cart but made no move to clean up the puddle that was causing her mother agony. “I’ve always been so clumsy. You were the first to tell me that, right?”

Tears poured down her mother’s face. It was a good look for her.

Mikan then prepared a solution, filling two syringes to the brim. She held up them up and flicked the needles, pushing out the air bubbles until a few droplets were expelled. She was going to kill them, sure, but no one could ever call her an unprofessional worker. She was going to do this right.

“Mikan, please,” her father moaned, “don’t do this.”

She didn’t want to hear his voice anymore.

“Are you afraid of this little needle?” Mikan asked, holding it so close to his face that he yelped and turned away. “Don’t worry. I’m the Ultimate Nurse. All you’ll feel is a liiiiiiittle pinprick, I promise.”

With a rush of adrenaline she stabbed him with it before he could say anything else, holding his arm tight while she flushed the solution into his veins.

It only took a few moments for the solution to take effect, beginning with violent convulsions, thrashing, screaming, before fading to muscle paralysis. As he went limp and began losing consciousness Mikan watched his heart rate gradually slow; all the while, hers pumped faster and faster.

An elongated beep signalled the stillness of his heart, and only then did Mikan thrust the defibrillator to his chest. One shock, then two, and she forced his heart to restart, sporadic beeps once again filling the silence. He gulped in air, gasping and spluttering, arms lashing in an attempt to claw at his chest. His eyes were red and bulged, skin too pale and then too flushed, sensitive to every new stimuli.

Mikan wrapped a bandage around the injection site on his arm, giggling as he struggled and cried.

“Oh, no, no, your heart’s not allowed to stop yet. What was it you said to me that night?” Mikan smiled, readying another syringe. “‘Shut up and enjoy it, because we’ve only just begun.’”

* * *

Junko lost count of how many times Mikan killed and revitalized her shitbag parents before she finally let them succumb and it was the greatest thing Junko ever had the pleasure of witnessing. She saw them wail and grovel when she had mutilated them herself, but the level of despair on their faces tonight was something only Mikan could achieve.

It was glorious. Truly an ingenious initiation that progressed even smoother than Junko expected.

The two of them were walking back to the dorms in the dead of night, the only sources of light coming from the moon and the occasional streetlight. Junko had ordered Mukuro to stay behind and clean the room that smelled as much as she did and remove the bodies. Who knew how soon they would need to make use of that room again?

“Did I pass your test, Junko?” Mikan asked quietly, breaking the silence.

“With flying colours, Sugartits!” Junko cheered, spinning around and holding out her arms for Mikan. “You even got bonus marks! I bet you want a reward, huh? Maybe some after class time with your teacher? Can Enoshima-sensei give you a big, heart-stopping kiss?”

“Junko...”

“You’re right, you’re right, that’s totally not a good enough reward. Cop a feel if you want, too. It’s too dark to see right now but my nips are still hard as rocks, trust me.”

She expected a stutter or a gasp or some sort of reaction from Mikan, but she got nothing, and immediately a knot of _something_ built in Junko’s gut. Now that Junko focused a bit more, much of the emotion Mikan exhibited during her delectable executions had withered away to... what? What was the look supposed to be? Sadness? Disappointment? No way was she mourning her parents, right? It had to be something else.

“You don’t have to ask to hold my hand or kiss me anymore,” Mikan said, sounding almost desperate. “P-please just do it like you a-always used to.”

Junko moved forward instinctively on the first stutter. She hesitated for only a moment, so used to asking for permission now, before she held Mikan’s hands and kissed her softly. Mikan kissed her back just as gingerly and Junko was thankful—and then questioning herself why she was worried that Mikan might not kiss her back.

“Are you okay?” Junko asked after pulling away. She squeezed Mikan’s hands, sharp nails gentle on her skin. “After all that? It’s okay not to be.”

Mikan sighed and moved away, stopping under a lamppost that transformed her pale skin and violet mane into a warm sunset while Junko remained a silhouette in the darkness.

“Junko... your hair isn’t naturally blonde, is it?”

Junko paused mid-step, just shy of the light. Just shy of Mikan.

“I-I only noticed it once,” Mikan continued, hands wringing together, “and I know it’s such a trivial thing, but it seems like something you’re trying to h-hide from people. F-from me.”

Junko trod carefully and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t like where this conversation could go and she wasn’t sure why. Mikan had never spoken to her like this before, accused her of a lie or called out her behaviour, and it made something twist in Junko’s stomach and she wasn’t sure why.

She hated it. She was supposed to be in control. Nothing should be surprising her anymore.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Junko replied, straightening her spine and folding her arms across her chest. “Where’s this coming from?”

Normally even something that simple would have made Mikan back down.

But Junko already recognized that Mikan had evolved overnight. The meek, pathetic fawn she stumbled upon in that classroom some months back no longer existed. Traces of her, sure, but a backbone had developed under those trembling muscles along with a voice that learned it could be heard.

Despite Junko’s... whatever it was she was feeling, she was proud of Mikan.

“You’ve a-always hidden things from me,” Mikan said, standing her ground even though Junko saw her hands shaking. “Dyeing your hair, w-what you’d get up to at night, kidnapping and hurting my parents... so many things. Why? Why do you keep h-hiding yourself from me?” Her voice was thick and wet, probably moments from crying. “You’ve seen everything that I am. Why won’t you show me who you are?”

Junko scoffed. “Yesterday I was different than today and tomorrow I’ll be different, too.” Junko pressed a long nail to her temple. “There’s a million versions of me running around up here. You’ve seen more of me than most people ever will, even more than Mukuro. Isn’t that enough for you?”

There. That should be enough for Mikan to drop this conversation. Then they could finally get back to their room and Junko could pass out with her face pressed to Mikan’s hair and—

“No, it’s not.”

The gears in Junko’s brain screeched to a halt, unable to comprehend what she just heard. Did Mikan... really just say that?

Even Mikan looked surprised by herself. And a little scared. Junko knew her stare had to be blank, it always was when she couldn’t figure out what to say, and she also knew that stare unnerved Mikan more than anything else, but Mikan didn’t take back what she said. She acknowledged her fear, accepted it, and pushed through it.

Junko didn’t know how to do any of that.

“I-I was always so happy just to sleep next to you at night that I’d pretend I was okay with you keeping so much hidden from me,” Mikan explained. “I’d ignore the q-questionable things you’d say and even bite my tongue when you’d insult Mukuro. B-but I...” Mikan shook her head, stepping closer to Junko, determination making her eyes glow like purple fire. “You taught me to stand up for myself. That I deserve to live. Deserve happiness. I also deserve a girlfriend who’s honest with me. I’ve become a whole new person for you, someone who’s capable of doing what I did tonight; of overcoming every instinct instilled into me since childhood, so I deserve to know who you were before we got together and who you are now.”

Why? Why did this suddenly matter? Junko was Junko. Who cared that Mikan didn’t know about the way she grew up or the status of her parents or the different personalities forming in her brain? Who cared that Mikan never knew what she was truly thinking or feeling? It didn’t interfere with their relationship or Junko’s plan for a new world, so what was the problem?

Why did Junko feel... wrong?

She didn’t know this feeling. Didn’t understand it. Didn’t want it. But Mikan wasn’t backing down and Junko didn’t know what to say. There’s nothing she _could_ say that Mikan would want to hear. It would be so much easier if this conversation dropped dead.

Junko could just walk away. If she acted mad or threatened to leave Mikan would be apologizing in seconds, trailing her like a lost puppy, and then this dumbass shit would be over with. Mikan would be hurt and Junko didn’t want to hurt her, but it would prevent this topic from being brought up again.

“I love you so much, Junko,” Mikan said, stepping forward until her feet were right on the edge of the light. She reached out into the darkness to cup Junko’s cheek and smiled in a way that made Junko’s insides shift. “I’ll only love you more once I know who you are.”

... Fuck.

Why did that work? It shouldn’t have worked. It wouldn’t have worked from anyone else.

But that smile made Junko do things she would never do otherwise. Mukuro called her out on that before but obviously Junko never admitted it.

This time she couldn’t even deny it to herself.

“Red.”

Mikan blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“My hair colour,” Junko clarified. “It’s red.”

A pregnant pause.

“Why do you dye it?” Mikan asked.

Junko raised an eyebrow, running a hand through her locks. “Do you not like it?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Junko shrugged. “I like it better blonde.”

“Is that the whole truth?”

“Enough of it.”

“Junko.”

She sighed. “Red is what I used to be. Blonde is what I am now and what I plan to be until I get bored of it.”

“Blonde suits you. It’s the only way I’ve known you.” Mikan’s hand rose to brush through her pigtails. “But I’d love you with red hair, black hair, doesn’t matter, as long as you don’t hide who you are from me.”

God, honestly, how did they get to this conversation tonight? Junko wasn’t sure how Mikan would behave for awhile after putting down those untamed beasts, but Junko definitely didn’t expect this type of behaviour or this intervention so early.

It made Junko... mad. But she wasn’t mad at Mikan, not really. So that anger had to be directed at... herself, right?

But why? Until now Junko had never even given thought to any of this. Whenever she started to she’d push those thoughts away because they shouldn’t matter. Or was that the issue? She was so confused. She didn’t understand.

“It’s not that easy, Mikan,” Junko said, frowning.

“Why not?”

Junko stepped further back, far away from the light and Mikan’s outstretched hand. “Most of the time _I_ don’t even know who I am.”

Mikan was quiet for awhile, her pretty face scrunched up in contemplation.

“Are you... afraid to know?” Mikan asked softly, like the night wind whistling through the trees. “Afraid to show me?”

Afraid? Fear? Junko didn’t feel fear. The only time she felt afraid was... was... when Mikan came to her dorm with ripped clothes and filthy hair and Junko couldn’t figure out why she looked like that and she needed to know for some reason or she thought she would explode.

It was that night that made Junko realize that, no matter how much she denied it, she now had something to lose.

She was afraid of losing Mikan.

It was the one ounce of despair she never wanted to feel.

But there was something thrilling about that, too. Mikan was the one person with the potential to make Junko feel true despair; a despair so raw even Junko feared it.

That was special. Mikan was special. Junko needed her to feel alive.

That was one of those things Junko avoided thinking about. But it was true, wasn’t it? No one made Junko feel the way Mikan did. Mikan did things to her without even trying that just weren’t fair. She was the random piece on Junko’s board that fucked up the whole game.

But that only made the game more interesting.

“I’ve felt despair since I was born,” Junko admitted, the words spilling forth before she realized she was speaking. “Most days I feel like I never should’ve been born at all. All that matters to me is despair—whether I’m the one feeling it or inflicting it on someone else. I love when you’re in despair, too, because then my despair is overwhelming.” She paused for a moment, her brain finally catching up with everything she just confessed. “That’s not something you ever wanted to hear from me, was it?”

Mikan seemed less disturbed than Junko anticipated. She looked confused more than anything. “If you like seeing me in despair so much,” Mikan began, “why did you try so hard to comfort me that night? Why have you bothered being so gentle with me all this time?”

She wasn’t sure why. But she had an inkling, even if she didn’t understand it.

“I like seeing you in despair, but... I like seeing you smile... more?” Junko shook her head, scratching the back of her neck. “I’m just as confused about it as you are. As I said, I don’t know who I am anymore or why I do the things I do. At least not when it comes to you.”

Mikan stared at her as if she were seeing her for the first time.

“Junko, do you... blame yourself for what happened to me?”

There was something very careful in how that question was asked. It wasn’t one that had just sprung to Mikan’s mind; she’d been meditating on it for awhile.

And Junko didn’t know how to handle being asked so directly. It was a question she had been avoiding asking herself. Anytime it previously invaded her mind she thought she would vomit.

“I should have followed you,” Junko managed through clenched teeth.

Mikan shook her head, expression firm. “You would have prevented it that night then, sure. Maybe. Then it would’ve just happened the next time.” Her gaze softened. “You told me it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t believe you at first but I do now. It wasn’t your fault, either.”

A growl bubbled in Junko’s throat and she fought the impulse to bury her claws inside and tear out her esophagus. “You needed me and I wasn’t there.”

It... bothered Junko. It really bothered her. Why did it bother her so badly? She wasn’t Mikan’s babysitter. She wasn’t some all-knowing saint that could constantly sense when her lover was in trouble. She already knew she couldn’t save Mikan every time and she shouldn’t be expected to do so.

But that was the one time that really mattered, wasn’t it? And Junko wasn’t there.

Was that why she had done all this? Guilt? That wasn’t something she ever expected to feel, but what else could this sinking, gnawing sensation be? Was that why she had been so gentle with Mikan? Made sure Mikan got the revenge she deserved? Or was it...

“Do you love me?” Mikan asked.

Junko could lie and say no. That would make Mikan feel despair. Or she could lie and say yes. Maybe that would make Mikan smile.

She couldn’t do either, could she?

“I don’t know.” Junko winced. “You probably didn’t want to hear that, either.”

Mikan shook her head, the smile on her face brighter than the light above her. “You were honest. That’s what matters to me.” Mikan giggled. “Plus, it wasn’t a no.”

Junko groaned, stomping her heel on the pavement. “Did none of the shitty things I just admitted affect you at all? I’m not a good person and an even worse girlfriend; you must know that by now. How can you still think so highly of me like I’m some exemplary citizen?”

Junko wasn’t good for her. No way would Mikan have recognized that at the beginning, not with her overwhelming desperation for anyone to give her a second glance, but she had to see that now.

But why did Junko care? It’s not like it mattered to her who she hurt or the destruction she caused. She was the goddess meant to rule this world and she’d do anything to make that happen. If Junko wanted something then she got it, and that included Mikan.

Plus, realistically speaking, in Junko’s new world Mikan would be the safest with her. So why was all of this bothering Junko so badly?

Mikan suddenly seemed bothered too, but unlike Junko, Mikan knew exactly what was making her upset.

“You protect me from bullies, you pulled me back from the rails, you make sure I’m eating, you took me on a wonderful date, you hold me in your arms at night, you only touch me when you’re sure I’m comfortable and mentally stable, you take my anxieties into account even when you’re not there, you took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself, and you’re teaching me to be confident and become an even better version of myself.” Mikan let out a breath, disbelief swimming in her eyes. “How are you a bad girlfriend?”

Every single one of those things Junko would never do for anyone else. Half the time she even convinced herself she wouldn’t do them for Mikan and then she’d go and do them anyway. Mikan always looked so sad and Junko just... wanted her to smile.

... Yeah, her brain was a fucking trash heap that was beginning to smell too much like roses.

“My new world will be brutal you know,” Junko said firmly, needing to break away from everything she had done that made her look soft. “I won’t give a shit who lives and who dies.”

Why did she keep saying things that could make Mikan leave her? She didn’t want Mikan to leave, so why was she trying so hard to convince her to do so? She didn’t understand. The more she understood Mikan, the closer she got to her, the less Junko understood herself.

Mikan slipped her hand through the darkness once again, palm open and waiting to be held.

“You matter. I matter. Mukuro matters. I don’t care about anyone else.”

Junko hesitated, unsure, but eventually she moved close enough to grab Mikan’s hand. Mikan entwined their fingers and stepped back, gently tugging Junko into the light with her.

“You’re still my hero. Still my Junko. Still the best thing in my life and my reason for living.” Mikan squeezed her hand and displayed that smile that knocked Junko on her ass every time. “You just have some back-story now, and I’m looking forward to uncovering all the old pages.”

Lame. Embarrassing. Sickly sweet. Uninspired analogy.

She looked so happy saying it with that smile.

So Junko made it better.

“Well, there are still a lot of pages yet to be written, too, and they’re gonna be fucking historic. Enough to write fifty-three different volumes.” Junko ran her hand through Mikan’s hair, mind flashing back to the metaphorical first page in her story with Mikan’s name. The word would be small and written with shaky penmanship but have a smiling purple heart next to it. “You gonna be a part of them?”

Junko didn’t want Mikan to leave but she wouldn’t force her to stay, either. She could if she really wanted to, she knew. But the thought of doing so felt wrong.

It had to be Mikan’s choice. That’s what Junko had decided from the very beginning. It wouldn’t be fun otherwise.

Wouldn’t be meaningful otherwise.

“I want to be.” Mikan bit her lip, shyly gazing up at Junko through her eyelashes. “W-what do you think happens on the next page?”

Junko grabbed Mikan by the hips and tugged her closer.

“This.”

Junko dove down and captured Mikan’s lips, swallowing her gasp. Mikan was quick to respond, arms wrapping around Junko’s neck, and Junko drew her even closer to leave no space between them. Mikan was warm and soft and wonderful pressed up against her, the feeling only second to her desire for despair.

They both slowly pulled away, Mikan’s deep breaths scorching on her lips. Mikan’s pupils had blown wide and Junko would kill everyone on this planet to protect that smile on her face.

Mikan stood on her tiptoes, pressing further into Junko’s hold, a curious hand stroking along Junko’s shoulders. Their noses brushed but Mikan didn’t kiss her, instead biting her own lip and glancing down at Junko’s with obvious want in her eyes.

Warmth spiked at Junko’s core. The only thing that would bring Junko despair right now was if this didn’t turn into a full on make-out session.

That was appealing in its own way but Junko wasn’t done, far from it, and the simmering heat in her veins made her drag Mikan into the shadows, hastily shoving her against a tree and kissing her again. She nibbled at Mikan’s lips until they were plump and red but it wasn’t until her claws teased the nape of Mikan’s neck that Mikan’s lips parted and Junko plunged in, tongues meeting and dancing.

Mikan’s grip was tight on her shoulders, yearning, excited, happy, tightening further as Junko kissed along the curve of Mikan’s jaw and trailed down her neck. Immediately Mikan threw her head to the side, giving Junko delicious access and Junko planned to mark every inch.

This girl was hers. Anyone that planned to mess with Mikan after tonight would know it, and if that wasn’t enough to scare them away she’d gladly mark them permanently.

It had been way too long since she’d felt Mikan’s pulse flutter beneath her lips or heard Mikan’s moans when her teeth sunk into her flesh. She wanted to hear them all the time. Wanted the whole world to hear them as it burnt to ashes.

“J-Junko,” Mikan panted, feebly attempting to push Junko’s face away, “s-someone’s passing by.”

Huh. Junko hadn’t even noticed. Her priorities remained elsewhere.

“Who cares? It’s probably just Mukuro.” Junko snickered. “So, I repeat, who cares?”

It probably wasn’t—not if Mukuro wanted to keep her head, anyway. Cleaning that room thoroughly would take hours and Junko expected thoroughness.

Junko didn’t sense danger from whoever it was passing by and that meant she could keep kissing Mikan.

She dipped her nails beneath Mikan’s collar and sucked at the known sensitive spot at the side of Mikan’s neck. Mikan moaned in her ear but Junko felt it much lower, pressing her breasts flush against Mikan’s and pinning her further into the tree. If the bark bit into her skin either Mikan didn’t show it or she really liked it.

Given the way she squirmed and squealed with every scratch of nails and bite of teeth, Junko went with the latter.

“I-I don’t,” Mikan panted again, “think it is.”

Junko clicked her tongue, kissing at Mikan’s thundering pulse. “I remember you being into having an audience, Sugartits.”

Mikan whined, not denying it, but still she managed to gently push at Junko’s shoulders.

“P-please,” another pant along with nails digging into her skin, “j-just let me get a better look.”

Wow, as if Mikan could even think right now. Junko must be losing her touch.

“Awww, fine.” Junko pouted as she pulled away, rubbing her thighs together. “You have no idea how much I need to change my underwear. They’ve been soaked for hours...”

Mikan gave her a _look_ but otherwise ignored her, turning to peer around the tree. Junko didn’t like being ignored but she caved, fixing up her shirt and peeking above Mikan’s head.

There was a girl walking alone, pace nervous and hurried. It was too difficult to recognize her in the darkness but as soon as she went under the streetlight—

“Wait, is that Scissorhands?” Junko laughed but quietly enough to not be overheard. “Holy shit, it’s like four in the morning. What kinda sexcapades is she up to?”

Mikan’s breathing deepened, watching like an obsessed fangirl as Scissorhands walked off into the distance.

“Mikan?” Junko questioned, waving her hand in front of Mikan’s face. “You okay?”

That seemed to snap her back to reality and Mikan looked up at her with barely contained excitement.

“I owe her everything, you know,” Mikan said. “I wouldn’t have met you if not for her. She deserves my,” Mikan’s expression suddenly mirrored the one Junko saw down in that room, “... appreciation.”

Anticipation and excitement soared through Junko’s body and she no longer had any doubts. Mikan was ready. She was strong, she would only get stronger, and Junko was going to give her paradise. If that meant she had to spill some of her secrets sometimes, maybe even be disgustingly honest about the feelings she’d rather ignore, then so be it.

Mikan made Junko’s life better and the new world would be much more fun next to her.

With one hand Junko pulled Mikan close and with the other she ran her fingers through Mikan’s hair.

“Welcome to the beginning of our new world, Mikan Tsumiki.”

Mikan smiled, and Junko loved that smile, so she kissed it with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read through my fic! I really appreciate it. If you enjoyed it please let me know! I really enjoyed writing Mikan x Junko in this fashion, with their relationship being much more genuine (and Junko not being abusive) so if you're interested in me writing more fics with this type of dynamic let me know!


End file.
